For Charity
by Lizzy0305
Summary: The seventh year's anniversary of winning the war is coming up and Harry Potter is up for auction. And so, Severus gets a birthday present, Harry gets a job, Draco gets an Italian, and everyone gets surprised when the Italian wants to get all three of them. Snarry, slash
1. Sold

_As promised, the new thing. I have an exam in two days and I'm restless and I dont want to study (HAIL THE GREAT PROCRASTINATION). So, I'm putting this out here._

_Don't expect quick uploads and you may be surprised. In return of your patience however, I offer: Severus/Harry, smut, lot of dirty talk, suggestive themes, talk about BDSM, innuendoes and subtlety, voyeurism and exhibitionism, a handsome Italian, nice pictures, courtesans and kings, expensive wine and in overall, a light, hopefully funny story, told in five chapters, written to entice and ensnare the senses. This part though may fail. I'm still working on this part, actually.  
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_This one is more of a prologue. To set the scene and all._

_And as always, I owe my life to Sexy. Lil. Emo, she edited this too and provided encouragement, the very thing I needed to start writing a new story. Oh and yeah... I'm not Italian. There will be a bit of Italian down below and if it doesn't make sense, let me know how it will make sense and I'll correct it right away! _

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_Sold to the Cute Blond in the Back_

***.***

Severus looked at the mountain of workload on the side of his desk and ran ten fingers through his hair.

"You cannot do this to yourself anymore, dear boy."

"I am perfectly fine, Albus."

"Tired is what you are, Severus," said the portrait.

The Headmaster, the current one, looked up at the old man who was hanging right above his head. The low, shimmering pain in his head returned and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will it away with no actual success.

It was only the middle of the semester, they were just over Christmas and his Defence against the Dark Arts professor had already deserted his post. Severus always critically scrutinized Albus Dumbledore's choices for the job until he had become Headmaster of Hogwarts eight years ago. First year he did not have a problem with the selection, Carrow came and no one had a word in it besides Lord Voldemort. But after that first horrid year, it was up to Severus Snape to choose the most suitable candidate for job.

The selection was narrow from the start. People had heard about the curse on it, from way before Severus had occupied the head position. Though some people became more interested in teaching this particular subject after Voldemort's downfall, the number of applicants was still closer to zero than ten. The curse was still holding back the brave idiots who thought they could manage a classroom full of even bigger idiots.

And so during the summer after the war had ended, Severus, already extremely busy with managing the rebuilding of the castle, broke away from the school and went to the Hog's Head for five interviews. The first candidate was barely nineteen years old and had studied at Beauxbatons. She was gorgeous and when Severus asked her what her knowledge consisted of she spouted the biggest bullshit Severus had ever heard in his entire carrier. Longbottom knew more about potions than this chit about the Dark Arts. When the Headmaster marched to the door and tore it open, the second candidate, who had been eavesdropping on the question he might also get, fell straight in.

Oh the irony wasn't lost on Severus.

He hexed the man out straight away.

After that, he settled with Applicant Four. Old man, very old, he had fallen asleep while explaining to Severus how to protect himself from curses. The professor just watched the man irritated but still somehow envious of his peace, listening to the long deep snores. But he was once a Ravenclaw and he still knew more than all the others put together.

During the exams, just when a third year girl was to handle a boggart, the shifter chose the old man's face. Severus witnessed as the girl, perfectly applying her studies in the subject, imagined his teacher in no other than frilly, scarlet underwear which brought laughter out of the whole Great Hall. The old man ashamed of the assumption that he would prefer women's undergarment or perhaps displeased that the truth had been revealed, slapped the young girl. He was immediately sacked and flooed to St. Mungo's with a broken nose and arm, courtesy of Headmaster Snape.

Second and third year was even worse. Severus had only one applicant both years and both left before the exams, forcing the Headmaster to substitute as he could not find anyone else for the time being. Interestingly there wasn't any grade below Exceeds Expectations these two years.

Forth year seemed devastating during summer as Severus did not have a single candidate. But Snape was being used to fight for what he wanted and he wanted a Defence Professor more than anything. So he promised allowances and flexible schedules and whatever the dunderheads needed to be convinced that this was their dream job. When only Stan Shunpike applied Severus thought he would give up his own position immediately. However, a reassuring shoulder-grip and a floo call later, Minerva stood in front of him with his newest Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Luna Lovegood. Severus laughed; harder than ever. It was not appreciated. Minerva had not spoken a word to him in the next week, and that was when Severus had learned that without Minerva McGonagall, he would be already buried under a mountain of paperwork. Grudgingly, he sent a letter to Miss Lovegood who was more than eager to return. She wasn't that bad, though she often deferred from the curriculum and had the weirdest methods. But her students produced good grades, so Severus shut his mouth and was happy that the curse had not activated yet.

Until it did. And Miss Lovegood flew away with another naturalist and started hunting a long dead or most likely non-existent creature somewhere in South America, leaving a miserable Severus Snape and Defence Professor-less school behind. Again.

Fifth year was the worst. The guy took off with one of his N.E.W.T students. Severus thought he would never wash the shame off himself and the school. He was fed up at this point. And that was when the miracle happened. _She_ applied.

Sheila was perfect. Born from two muggles, she was ecstatic when it came to anything magic related. She knew everything about anything and not just her subject; she was enthusiastic about the job, about the prospects, about teaching young minds. She was great at conversations, even the stuff loved her. Her students adored her even though she had handed out almost as much detention as Snape did back in the old days. Funny and witty, she charmed everyone even Severus. She regulated the kids, helped out with the extracurricular activities, produced the greatest grades – and became pregnant in February. Severus had never been so heartbroken, he felt cheated when she moved away at the end of the term. He gifted her with a photo of the staff she had befriended but the witch wanted more. She took the love of her life with herself as well: Severus' own Arithmancy teacher. Two professors he had lost because of the love affair.

Vector was easily replaced, her position wasn't hunted by a curse after all. But the Defence position caused many headaches to Severus that summer again. That was the year when Draco's punishment, set by the Ministry after the war, was up. He had been forced to teach Muggle Studies because the Minister thought he ought to learn too from the people he wanted to enslave. His godson, funnily enough, had started to rather enjoy teaching it after the first year or so and he became quite good at it too. Severus begged him to leave the position but Draco was scared of the curse and besides, Muggle Studies pissed of his father, which he enjoyed immensely.

That was the first time they had mentioned Potter. Because Potter would stop this, he _would_ break the curse and Severus knew it. But he would not ask the brat even if his life depended on it. Their history was over and they had no more business with each other. He had not seen the boy in five years and it was perfect like that.

Just when he was about take the job himself, Charlie Weasley came to his rescue on a dragon. Quite literally. He and his gang of dragon keepers wanted to establish a new colony in Britain. While the dragon sanctuary was building, Mr. Weasley couldn't operate in Romania as he had to oversee the work in Scotland but he did not want to laze around either. He was the best candidate as he was the only one. He wasn't as good as Sheila, but Severus had worse in both Defence professors and Weasleys so he welcomed the ginger. The sanctuary was finished and they waved painful goodbye to another professor, who flew away on a Chinese Fireball to the great amusement of his ex-students.

His current Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, who wasn't a teacher anymore either, came to him on his knees. It had happened in a dark corner of an even darker bar. They had been drunk and Severus craved some release. The man had been on his knees, his mouth on Severus, sucking his hard cock only through his jeans yet but that was about to change. Then the Headmaster confessed in a drunken haze why he was so irritated. The man told him he was rather good with "defence stuff" and Severus had been suddenly facing a very difficult decision: blow job or defence job? Looking back at it now, the Headmaster knew he had chosen the wrong thing. The first option at least would have given him five minutes of bliss but instead he got three months of constant suffering. He had to substitute more lessons than how much his professor was actually giving. The man was on and off spotted in Knockturn Ally, thankfully not doing anything illegal just frequently visiting bars. As it turned out later on, he wasn't visiting bars, or rather it wasn't the bars he was visiting. It was the clientele and most importantly, their habits. According to the Prophet the man was the best submissive in Knockturn Ally and its close vicinity. The photos about him tied off to a bed with two cocks in his arse and leather straps and whatnots around his own bits and nipples was convincing enough. Severus didn't have a problem with this kind of bedroom behaviour as long as it was in the bedroom not in the Prophet at every Wizarding home.

The man had gotten sacked and Severus took over the position. By the start of the winter holiday, he was in physical pain from lack of sleep, the bags under his eyes so deep, he could probably crawl into them and rest there. He lost weight due to his irregular eating habits, or rather lack of it, given the second he was out of the classroom he started working on the four feet of paperwork that had been gathering on his desk. With a minimum of two hours of sleep a day, he taught heroically day after day, just so he can sign some papers and grade some tests during the evening and spend the rest of the night surviving only on coffee while brewing potions for the infirmary and hoping that he would have a moment to look for a suitable candidate during the upcoming winter holiday or even better, Santa would drop one off just for him.

Santa Clause had come and brought only socks and books with him. No Defence teacher and no more time to look for it, either.

A lethal tiredness came over Severus as he watched the mountains of parchment. No matter how much Draco, Minerva and the rest of the stuff had helped him out, he simply wasn't able to be Headmaster and Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at the same time. He rubbed his eyes, drank some coffee and pulled a paper from the top of the stack. The letters swam before his eyes. He frowned, tried to blink away the tiredness but it was in vain. He needed to sleep; he had been running around like a madman in the last thirty-eight hours. He was tired, thirsty, and hungry and needed a massage more than anything.

The bells rung midnight and Severus looked up. He stared towards the dark windows for a moment, not understanding why the Hogwarts bells were chiming.

"It's New Year's Eve, Severus," explained a sad voice over his head. "Don't spend the first moment of the upcoming year working. Go down, celebrate with your friends and colleagues."

Severus sighed deeply. When did this happen? Last time he checked, they still had three days till New Year's. "I'm busy, Albus. Leave me alone."

Suddenly, the fireplace flared up and a drunk blond staggered out of the green flames holding two glasses of authentic and very expensive French champagne.

"Make a wish!" he cried, his voice sluggish from the alcohol.

"Get me a Defence professor," reacted Severus without hesitation. Draco pushed the drink in his hand and clinked their glasses.

"Done," he said then, downing his sparkling wine and stumbling back into the flames. He was gone before Severus could even utter a world.

He put down a glass and looked back at the parchment in front of him. He could read the words now, but he wished he didn't. They were utter rubbish. One of the worst essays he had ever read. He stared at paper for one more minute, listening to the first seconds of the new year tick by. Then he dropped the quill, pushed away the whole stack of paper and grabbed his champagne.

"To fuck with all this," he grunted, downing his drink. He pushed his chair away from the table, stood up and marched to the door. Grabbing the handle, he looked back. "Happy New Year, Albus."

Twinkling blue eyes looked back at him merrily, "And to you, my dear boy. May it bring you happiness and _rest_."

Severus rolled his eyes and went down to celebrate. He knew he would regret it tomorrow. But tomorrow was a couple more glasses of fine champagne away, so he couldn't care less at the moment.

***.***

The cheap scotch dried his throat, but hell, it was cold. He pressed it against his temple.

"Are you still hung over?" Smirked his godson.

Tomorrow came much more sooner than he would have appreciated it. The tiredness took over him completely and knocked him out. "I'm not hung over," Severus croaked. "I'm still fucking drunk, that's what I am." He was probably both though. His head was pounding so hard he wanted to turn around just to see there really wasn't a dragon behind him knocking its head against his.

"School starts tomorrow," Draco reminded him. He glared at the boy. Malfoy was twenty-five, but as Severus had helped changing his smelly diapers, it was hard to look at him in any other way. Though as if the rumours were true – and they were – Draco had almost as much experience as Severus had with his forty-five years.

"And why would you think I need to be reminded of that?" Bloodshot black eyes gave a searching look to the blond but he didn't waver.

"Because it's six in the evening and you're drinking scotch instead of coffee and you're still wearing your clothes from yesterday. And you... well, excuse me, but you smell," came the answer Severus did not really want to hear. He was, thank you very much, perfectly aware of all this.

"Fuck off, Draco," he grunted.

"Severus, when was the last time you ate?" Draco inquired softly, coming closer to him and taking the glass from his hand. He vanished it with a flash of his wand. "And I mean a proper meal not just a bite or two."

"What day is it?"

"Sunday," came the reply, followed by an eye roll.

Severus nodded. He shouldn't have. His headache just got a million times worse. "Three days ago."

"Go have a shower, eat something, and then go to bed." Draco pulled him up and ushered him towards the secret door that led to the Headmaster's chambers. "And we're sharing the Defence classes from tomorrow. You have the lower years, one and two, I'm taking over the rest."

Severus raised his head and looked into the grey eyes. He felt so grateful he would have kissed Draco, did he not think of the boy as his own blood. "Would you really?" He breathed then promptly hugged his godson.

"Yeah," Draco mumbled. "Just get off me. You're drunk and you smell like..." Severus leant away and Draco sniffed the air around him, "Dungbombs?"

Realizing just then how truly drunk he still was, Severus sniggered. Sallow memories from New Year's came back. A wasted Hagrid, many of those smelly bombs and a furious Filch, and that was all he remembered. But it was enough to make him smile sloppily.

"What's with the attire?" He asked as he looked at Draco, studying him as if only noticing him right now. The boy was wearing fancy robes, nothing he would wear at Hogwarts. "Where are you off to?"

"Buying your bloody birthday gift," came the testy answer.

"You better not give me something cheap this year. You still owe me one for that _Come As You Are*_ business."

Draco had the decorum to at least blush. Couple of months ago, he was almost outed by the Prophet like the other teacher. It was only thanks to Severus and a rather large bag of galleons that the young man still had his job and his well guarded secret which involved gags, whips, iron clips and a lot of leather.

"Oh I'm sure it won't come cheap. I don't even know if it will come _willingly_."

Severus didn't have a single clue what the blond was on about but his headache returned as if someone had just decided to use his head as a boxing bag. He closed his eyes and waved. "See you tomorrow, Draco. Do not be late, and if I am, come check on me. I might have just died."

***.***

Reporters bustled around him as he got out the black ministry car.

"Mister Potter! Mister Potter!" One of them called, and Harry looked at the woman. She worked for the Prophet and that was the only reason he answered her. He recognized the reporters from Witch Weekly and WQ and many other papers as well, but the Prophet was always the first.

"Yes, Claire?" He smiled brightly at the witch. She was as tall as Harry and had very short blond hair. Though she was older, she was well respected – and envied – among the other journalists. Harry liked her. She was an ambitious woman, but not ruthless or cruel like her predecessor Skeeter had been. She also worked pro bono for some of the charity programs as public relations manager along with Hermione, though she usually helped with organizing.

"How do you feel about tonight, Mr. Potter?" She asked. A violet Quick Quill floated over her, which went well with her attire. "Do you think you will hit a record with the donations?"

"Oh I think we'll do great. There are some amazing wizards and witches up for auction tonight. I myself would give any galleon to spend a night with Celestina and hear her sing just for me."

He scratched the line on his hand that said 'I must not tell lies', because this was a straight out lie. He didn't want to buy anyone, specially not her. He wanted to go home and grab a book and a glass of wine. But that was not going to happen as he was the last wizard to be auctioned. The Grand Prize as they called him recently. Merlin, it was even worse than the "Chosen One" or the "Heir of Slytherin".

"But you can't bet, right?"

"Unfortunately, no." Another lie. It wasn't unfortunate. "But Ron and Hermione are already in there, getting their purses ready. And I also bought some money to spend." Technically, this was a lie too. He didn't have a single galleon on him. He had already transferred the money to Hogwarts' account, but no one needed to know he wanted to take off as soon as possible.

"Which charity program-" she started but Harry smiled and raised a hand to politely stop her.

"You know who I always donate to. I've been doing it in the last seven years."

"Hogwarts," she stated as if everyone around didn't know it yet.

"And some other charity programs, like Lumos**," Harry nodded. "But many other people need our help so I would like to urge everyone to chip in a bit. Every galleon helps," said the young man getting dizzy from the flashes of the cameras.

"How much do you think you will sell for?" Claire asked and some of the reporters laughed around her.

Harry laughed too, awkwardly and scratched his neck. "I honestly don't know. The more the better, I guess. I will be happy if someone even wants to buy me."

"One last question Mr. Potter," smiled the witch, sensing Harry's need to get away from all the people. That was another reason why he liked her; she seemed to have a six sense when it came to the Boy Hero. She knew when to stop. "I heard the auctioned witches and wizard can all decide where they take their dates. Your friend, Miss Weasley, for example, offered to take her winner to the England-Germany Quidditch match which will be held in Berlin next weekend. What are your plans with your winner?"

Harry laughed. "Nothing that extreme, I'm afraid. I thought more of a proper date, you know. Quiet walk in the park, dinner at my place, a nice bottle of wine," Harry let his grin grow teasing then he added with a small wink, "and wherever that leads."

The other reporters started shouting questions, but Claire just nodded as thanks. Harry turned to leave as well, walking up the old manor's stairs. The house belonged to an old woman who liked organizing fancy parties in the name of charity. These kind of things generally disgusted Harry. He didn't understand why did the whole Wizarding World have to know when, why, how much and to whom he was donating money. He preferred handling this, like he had handled his whole life: in peace and quiet.

He wouldn't be here if Claire didn't approach him many months ago, asking him if he were willing to be sold at a New Year's charity gala. She explained that in next May the seventh anniversary of the end of the Second Wizarding War would come and as seven was a magical number, some of these well known organisations had joined up with the Ministry in hope to give a bit more publicity to this anniversary and therefore collect some more donations.

Harry at first thought this was just an elaborate joke from Ron but it wasn't. Claire was dead serious and she immediately started listing the other names she had already convinced. She began pulling numbers and photos of homeless children and Harry agreed just so he could have her out of the door. But more and more letters came from her and as Harry actually started paying attention to the numbers he started realizing, this might as well be a good idea. And so, he himself started collecting people to join: Ginny, Neville, Luna, George and Kingsley, the minister himself, were only up for auction tonight, because Harry had asked them to.

The auction itself, as he was told, was rather simple. He would have to dress up in some nice robes (which would be later on sold as well) and stand in front of a room full of people. Then the bidding would begin. The start would be at one thousand galleons and Harry honestly thought, no one would buy him for so much money. He wouldn't, so why would they? He just hoped he wouldn't be left standing there all alone if that happened. After he was bought by a rich wizard or witch, he would be led to talk to them and coordinate the program. Then finally everyone was allowed to go home and he wouldn't be bothered for a few more months again. He couldn't wait for this part of the evening to arrive.

As he walked inside the huge house, five house elves popped up right in front of him. One took his coat, the second offered tea and coffee, the third alcohol, the forth some finger food and the fifth wanted to escort him to his changing room.

Luckily someone saved him from the attention.

"Oi, mate! Finally!" Ron waved at him from the other side of the entrance hall. There was a plate of food in his other hand. "Come on, Ginny's almost ready. You have to see her. She looks like a blue meringue," he laughed.

Harry groaned. Just what on earth would they make him wear?

"She set her dress on fire two times already," Ron grinned wildly. Suddenly, screams came from the room they were heading to and he giggled, "_Three_ times."

They stepped in the elegant, nineteenth century room just in time to see Ginny tear off another layer of frill from her light blue dress while her stylist, an eccentric looking older wizard tore out a fistful of his own hair.

"I-AM-NOT-WEARING-IT!" She cried enunciating each word as if talking to an imbecile. "Look at all this... all this _frill_!" She eyed the clothing disgusted as if it would be at least made out of still bloody animal skin not quality lace. "Oh, hello Harry," she welcomed him with a fleeting smile that he returned.

"Hi Ginny. Having fun?" inquired Harry tensely.

"Oh, plenty," came the sarcastic answer before she gathered the ten layers of soft cloth and marched out of the room, shouting for Hermione while the old, half bald guy ran after her, screaming after someone, too.

"Potter?" asked a girl behind them in a bored voice.

"Yeah," Harry turned around to face the witch who looked at him with the expression that screamed _let me out of here_. She had black hair, long and thick, it almost reached her waist. She wore black all the way, even her blue eyes were lined with it.

She ticked something on the noteclip she was holding, popped her pink gum and turned half way out of the room.

"ETTORE!" She roared in a deep voice which surprised Harry so much he staggered back a few steps. Then she turned back at the Boy Hero and looked him up from bottom to top. She made a noncommittal, "Eh," then was out of the room.

Ron and Harry shared a look, the former mouthing, "What the hell?" Harry shrugged, plopping down on a chair but the next moment he was on his feet again.

"No, no, no! Up! Up you get, _mio bello_!"

A wizard stood next to him tall and lean and just _holy shit_. Eyes deep blue like the ocean, lips lush and full, dark stubble slightly longer over his upper lip, chin and jaw line, but lighter over the rest of his face like a simple five o'clock shadow. His hair was thick and brown and short but waved on his head like tiny snakes. A thin scar ran through the plump lips and Harry wondered whether his reflection had hurt him with a piece of mirror after seeing this amazing beauty and getting jealous.

Harry cleared his throat feeling pathetic that he couldn't do the same with his mind. "Who are you?" He asked the hot devil.

The man looked at him confused for a second then said in an incredibly arousing Italian accent, "Ah my manners, where have I left them?" He laughed. "Your stylist, Signor Potter." He reached out a hand that was soft and large and grasped Harry's firmly. "Ettore Serafini, a pleasure, Signore."

"Oh hello," Harry said breathless.

"And I'm Ron Weasley. And going," said the ginger brightly, clapping Harry on the shoulder and winking suggestively. Then he was out of the door, leaving Harry alone with an Italian God, most certainly.

"Now, Signor Potter, shall we get you undressed?" He smiled, making Harry blush like a school girl.

"Yeah uhm... sure," he mumbled. "What am I going to wear?"

"At first they wanted to go with something casual, but I said, no, no, no. We need... style. And power. And youthful _energia_." While Ettore talked, Harry started removing his clothing until he stood in nothing but his small black, tight briefs. As he folded his shirt and jeans, all of a sudden he realized his stylist had stopped talking. He looked back and turned scarlet like his former House's flag. The Italian God was staring at his arse unashamed and almost drooling.

"_Sfarzoso_," Ettore whispered and though Harry had absolutely no idea what it meant, the tone was very familiar. That was the tone he used upon coming across a rather beautiful and rare artefact during his work as curse-breaker.

Before Harry could even start contemplating what to do, Ettore was right behind him, his fingers running on the young man's waist. Harry froze immediately and tried to turn face to face with him, but Ettore just went, "No, no, no, _bello_, let me have a look," in a completely objective tone and pushed Harry forwards, so he had to lean against the wall.

Harry was torn between emotions. A part of him was outraged that he was manhandled and touched like this but the other part was rather satisfied that a man _like that_ was eyeing him _like this_. He wasn't used to having handsome wizards looking at him as if he'd been the most delicious thing around. Before he could make up his mind though, Hermione showed up in the doorway.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Harry said freaking out.

"Aren't you supposed to dress him _up_?" she asked, looking at Serafini, who looked back at her like a child whose candy was just taken away.

"But, bella, look at him. So... s_farzoso_!"

"I know, he's gorgeous, but we're about to start and Harry is still not dressed! Give him his suit, Ettore, so we can get on with this already!"

"But..." started the man but Hermione cut in.

"No buts. Or butts. That's not what we're paying you for."

"_Bella_, you are not paying me!" He laughed but turned away from Harry and went in a room. "Charity, remember!" He shouted back over his broad shoulders.

"Just do your job!" Hermione cried after him. She gave an apologetic look to Harry. "Sorry, about him. I should have warned you he might... you know. He's an Italian stylist, he's the absolute best out there. He's a genius when it comes to clothes, but people? He's been married six times. He flirts with everything that moves and he makes me crazy."

"I can understand that," Harry admitted his eyes at the door behind which Ettore disappeared. "He's definitely _something_," grinned the young man.

"Don't even think about it, Harry," She groaned laughing.

"Hermione, have you seen that man. He's beautiful, of course I'm thinking about it."

"Oh Harry, we lost you too?" She gave him a pained expression. "You're the fifth, just today."

"C'mon Hermione, you know he's not my type. I love someone a bit more... complicated. But he's still..."

"I think the term you look for is 'eyecandy'." Ettore laughed as he walked back in with a three piece suit on his arm and two shiny black shoes clapping after him on their own. "And I can guarantee you, Signor Potter, I am many things but not easy to handle. I am like _drago_. Beautiful to look at, but so very dangerous."

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry tried to apologize but Ettore brushed it away.

"And I am not offended," he said with a soft smile. "We do not yet know each other. I hope that will change soon." He had soul crushingly blue eyes, Harry noted to himself. "This will be your attire for tonight, Signore. Silk, charcoal grey pants. Tight to show that booty we all would like to see."

"Ettore!" Hermione cried indignantly, but he ignored her. He showed the pants to Harry then laid them gently on a nearby settee.

"Black belt and shoes, both made of the finest Italian leather with very delicate magic of course. Your shirt, also silk, simple and white. And now to my favourite piece, the vest. A good vest, Signor Potter, kills. And Stephen will make you a killer out there."

"Stephan?" Harry looked at the man bewildered.

"I always name my designs after my lovers," smirked the man. "Tell me, Signore, will there be a Harry there too next to my Stephans and Alphonsos?"

"No, there won't be," Harry moaned starting to comprehend what drove Hermione crazy.

Ettore laughed throatily. "Ahh, such a same. But look at Stephen now, can you see him?" He asked letting Harry take the vest. "The light grey colour, like his hair and the streaks of green motives, that was his eyes, my bello. He was a beautiful man. He will hug your body tightly, just as Stephen did with mine when we made love."

Harry snorted, unsure whether he wanted to get into Stephen or just walk out there stark naked.

"Come, dress now. I want to see you in my creation," Ettore ordered him and Harry reluctantly obeyed but only after Hermione had pressed the silk pants against his chest.

His body had never felt the exquisite sensation of being surrounded by silk. It was very nice, so much better than Harry had expected. The lower part of Stephen sat snugly on his hips and yes, Serafini was right, surrounded him like a lover. It was tight and probably would make a night-long sitting around rather uncomfortable but as long as he was standing it felt as if it was made just for him. Later on, Ettore told him, that it actually was. Hermione had sent him his measurements. He put on the shirt and let Hermione do his tie. Then he donned the vest too.

"Mio Dio, look at you!" Ettore cried.

"You're going to earn a lot of money for us tonight, Harry," beamed Hermione as he held up the grey suit jacket for Harry. He drew his arm through the soft fabric and buttoned it up. He stepped into the shoes that tied themselves and he was almost ready.

Next, Ettore corrected his hair. Instead of trying to make it look straight he messed it up even more.

"Nice, bello," he remark standing right in front of Harry, who felt extremely uncomfortable, as the man had a couple of his fingers still on the back of his head. "Now you look like you just had made love with my Stephen."

"I don't want to make love with your Stephen," Harry groaned looking at Hermione who was laughing next to them.

"You already did, Signor Potter," Ettore said and he turned Harry towards the mirror. "And I tell you, I have never seen anything that would make me so..."

"Ettore!" Hermione cried again warningly.

"_Hard_," he breathed against Harry's ears as he stood behind him.

Harry looked in the mirror and saw a man there, all grown up, nicely toned body, broad shoulders, and thinner hips. Killer arse. He looked hot and powerful, like someone who wanted to take on the world, not go home to read a book and drink wine alone.

"You know what... I do look good." He said to Ettore in the mirror. The man smiled brightly at him then laughed.

"If Stephen can do that to you, can you imagine, what I could?"

Hermione groaned behind them.

"Nothing, I'm afraid that would make me feel this good," Harry answered and Serafini laughed booming again.

"I like you," he admitted still smiling. Harry noticed that when he was cheerful his accent was even more noticeable. "You have _spirito_, and you're not easily fooled by handsome man."

"I'm not easily fooled by any men," Harry corrected him. Except one, but _he_ had always been in Harry's blind spot.

"You do not like men?"

Harry was surprised by the blunt question but the guy did just admit that Harry made him hard; they had stepped over the line of delicate courtesy long time ago, probably when he was manhandled against the wall in his boxers. Confessing his sexuality felt as normal as telling his age.

"Oh I do."

"But not me? My heart breaks," the man sighed dramatically, but the twinkling in his eyes told Harry he was being teased.

"I'm afraid not. You are not, what I'm looking for," Harry smiled apologetically.

"Well, Signor Potter, perhaps you do not yet know what you are looking for."

"Oh I know. He's just not coming."

Ettore shook his head and showed Harry an encouraging half smile in the mirror, "Then, Signore, _you_ must make him come."

***.***

Ginny with her blue meringue dress was sold for the most so far. The highest bid was seven thousand Galleons. After Ginny came Neville with six thousand and five hundred. Harry felt sick just thinking about it. Surely he would just stand there, no one willing to pay for him. He was absolutely certain and suddenly, the tie around his neck was asphyxiating. Good thing Hermione stood next to him, being supportive and all. She kept up the consistent flow of champagne, too.

"And now," cried the lady who lead the auction, "our Grand Prize."

People cheered and Harry was pushed out onto the stage. He didn't see much. Wizards and witches crowded at the first row but thanks to the bright lighting he did not see behind them. He could tell cameras snapped and flashed and that next to him stood all the others who were already bought. Other than that, it was just brightness.

"A nice walk in the heart of London, a homemade three course dinner at his own place where no reporters have ever been..."

Harry sniggered at the lady's announcement. Of course he didn't let any reporters in there; his place was a mess usually.

"...In other words, a date with our national Hero, the Chosen One, member of the Order of Phoenix and the Dark Force Defence League, receiver of the Order of Merlin, First Class: _Harry Potter_."

Harry wasn't expecting and therefore ready to hear the storm of cheers that was issued from the whole of the Ball Room in front of him. People shouted his name and screamed, ecstatic. It almost knocked him over but he had a role to play. He bowed, giving them his brightest smile.

"The bid starts at one thousand Galleon. Who would give-" The lady couldn't even finish, hands were already in the air, witches screamed. Harry felt relieved, people did want to buy him. His smile became even brighter. "Two thousand, do I hear-" yes, she did hear it. People screamed again though not as much. "Amazing, three thousand then, wizards and witches?" Harry could still count three hands in the front row. "Four thousand!" Two hands. "Five thousands golden galleons! Who will go home with Harry Potter?" One hand was still stretching resolutely towards the sky like a spear.

Harry winked towards the arm, though he didn't see the face. The arm shook slightly then reached even higher. Harry laughed.

"Do I hear six thousand over there at the lady in pink?"

She must have heard it correctly because people cheered and clapped somewhere to the right. It seemed there were still many hands up, even though Harry couldn't see them. He squinted and tried to shade his eyes but it didn't help. Instead he turned back to his role.

He shrugged off his jacket and threw into the middle of the crowd. There were screams again and he smiled towards where the voices where the loudest. He rolled up both his sleeves and loosened his tie. According to Ettore, this should give him a playful _atmostfera_, that witches and surely some wizards too, would love. He pulled out his wand and rolled it between his fingers.

"Seven thousand galleons, witches and wizards, will we break our records, and _yes_, yes we will, I see a new bidder! Amazing! Eight thousand galleons?"

Harry summoned some red roses and handed it out in the first row, throwing a few further back too.

"Yes, eight thousand, the woman in black right here in the front. Eight thousand and one hundred, do I hear eight thousand and one hundred? Yes the hand is up! Oh what an auction, witches and wizards! Eight thousand and two hundred! Do I hear- Yes, unbelievable! Eight thousand and two hundred in the back! How about eight thousand three hundred?"

"Ten thousand galleons!" Shouted a familiar, drawled voice from the back and everyone gasped collectively. Even Harry, mostly because he recognized the voice immediately and he didnt have the faintest idea why Draco Bloody Malfoy would want to buy him for ten thousand galleons.

"Ten thousand! My, oh my! Ten thousand galleons, witches and wizard! How about ten thousand and one hundred? Ten thousand and one hundred golden coins for a date with Harry Potter!"

_Dinner_, and even a short one in that, Harry wanted to shout out now that he knew who the bidder was.

"No? No one? This is your fair warning witches and wizards, ten thousand and one hundred galleons for an amazing date with the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Chosen One-"

Fucking hell, stop with the titles, Harry wanted to scream, his mind trying to wrap itself around the fact that he was about to be bought by Draco Malfoy.

Little wooden hammer knocked on wood and the lady shouted thrilled, "And Harry Potter is sold on record price, for _ten thousand_ galleons to the cute blond wizard in the back! I would like to ask the winners to head through the double door to your right where you may collect your prizes!"

The Lady kept talking but Harry wasn't listening to her or anyone else. He rushed back, to look for Ron and Hermione and luckily ran right into his best friends.

"Harry, mate you were brilliant!"

"Harry, thank you so much! Lumos will be very grateful!"

"It was Malfoy!" Harry whispered dragging his friends to somewhere less crowded. He pushed through a door just to find himself on an empty service corridor. "_Malfoy_ bought me!"

"What? Does he even have so much gold?" Ron asked frowning.

"Well it seems he has!" Harry groaned. "I don't want to go on a date with him. I thought this was going to be easy. Meet a fan, have a chat and a dinner. But _Malfoy_?"

"Are you sure it was him, Harry?" asked the witch.

"Believe me, Hermione, I know his voice when I hear it."

She grasped his arm, "You still need to go, Harry. They are expecting you. I know it's horrible, but you need to hurry."

"Do you want us to save you out of there?" Ron offered.

Harry took some calming breathes then shook his head. "No... it's just... Malfoy... That's never good. But he did buy me, so I have to go. Ten thousand fucking galleons. Did he sell his soul or what?"

"That wouldn't be worth so much," Ron chuckled.

***.***

"Potter," came the drawl from behind him. Harry turned around and tried to school his features. "I don't want this in the papers. You were brought anonymously, you hear me."

Harry nodded. He concentrated on the ten thousand galleons the charity programs would receive if he handled this situation well.

"You won't let reporters near you on the date night. You can owl me with the place where we meet, but the date is next Saturday. Six, maybe. Or seven, whatever is better for you."

Harry was close to blurting out, "The best for me would be if you buggered off right now," but then a tiny voice that sounded a lot like Claire said in his mind, "Think about the poor children."

"Seven. I owl you my address. There's a park not far, you can apparate there. We can have the walk and-"

Malfoy's ugly snort stopped him talking. "Yeah sure. Just make sure you'll be there. Oh and he- _I_ like... uhm... chocolate. Anything chocolatey. And scotch. Not whisky. Remember that. Or wine, but make it a good one, he- _I_ don't drink grape juice."

Harry had to swallow down a retort about what kind of juices Malfoy would drink just in a moment if he didn't shut up. "Got it. Chocolate, scotch, good wine. Red or white?"

"Uh. I don't know. Red? Yeah, I think red."

"Okay. Anything else?"

Malfoy looked away for a moment, thinking, then gray eyes were back on Harry. "I think that's all. Oh and Potter, whatever happens that Saturday, remember, I bought you fair and square. I gave a large pile of gold to have dinner with you, you got it? So no matter what, that dinner will be eaten, or I'm taking back my money."

"That is one hell of a romantic way to ask someone on a date, you arse," Harry remarked not able to hold himself back anymore. An old witch gave him a stinky eye but he didn't pay any attention to her.

"Date? I'm not asking you on a _date_!" The blond frowned wildly. "That's just sick, Potter. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He turned around and marched away mumbling madly under his breath. Harry watched the silvery blond head and just stood there in the middle of the fancy, nineteen century room.

Just what on earth was going on here?

* * *

><p><strong>*<em>Come as you are<em> is actually a Canadian shop where you can purchase... well why would I tell, go look it up if you're interested ;)**

****_Lumos_ is JK Rowling's charity foundation helping children in orphanages all around the world**

* * *

><p><em>Well? What do you think so far? Do you like Ettore? I hope you do, he's a fun guy :) He's going to bring a lot of excitement into this story ;)<em>


	2. Gifted

_Well, here's the dinner you've been so keen to read. I dont know if it will be what you expected but i certainly hope it will be a fun read._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_Gifted to the Snarky Guy in the Park_

***.***

"SHIT! I'm going to be late! HERMIONE!" Harry shouted from his bedroom as he pushed his head through the sleeve of his shirt. "_Shit_..." He pulled it off and started the process all over again. He quickly put on a green pullover right before Hermione ducked her head in the door.

"How do I look?" Asked the young man with a grin.

The witch gave him a long look. All Hermione saw were the simple, torn blue jeans, the pullover and the black socks on Harry's feet. The red shirt with a lion roaring on it was covered luckily. He knew the girl would disapprove but it made him feel slightly rebellious, even if that sounded stupid.

"You sure, you want to go casual?"

"I'm not dressing up smart for Malfoy," Harry shook his head. They went over this a million times already.

"All I'm saying is, we don't know yet, what's going on. Maybe he just has a favour to ask."

"Hermione," Harry said slowly, pulling on thick, brown boots, "He's Malfoy and he paid ten thousand galleons for this dinner. Whatever he wants, he won't be asking for it. He will be _demanding_ it."

"Oh Harry," sighed the girl, her expression telling Harry she fully agreed with him and more likely thought about this too.

"So, how is my homemade dinner doing?"

"Good," she nodded, collecting herself. "It should be ready by the time you come back."

"What exactly am I cooking for this little shit?"

Hermione chuckled, giving her friend a disapproving look. "Concentrate, Harry, it's not that hard to remember it," chided the girl as this was the third time Harry had asked the menu since she had started cooking it. "A light Tuscan bread salad, then filet mignon with balsamic strawberries served on mashed potatoes."

"That was Angus beef, Hermione, why exactly did I ruin it with strawberry?" Harry inquired frowning as they walked to the kitchen.

"You did it because you love strawberry and because it gives a fancy streak to the otherwise boring steak," Hermione answer cheerfully as she spooned a bit of balsamic strawberry and held it out for Harry.

"_Angus_ steak can never be boring, Hermione," Harry shook his head then licked the strawberry off the cutlery. The taste was different what he was used to but rather good.

"Malfoy will like it, I think," she remarked, having a taste too.

"What if I don't like it?" Harry laughed.

"Then you pretend you like it, just like you will pretend to like Malfoy for the next couple of hours. Remember, Harry, ten thousand galleons. We need that to build the new wing in the orphanage. It's going to be named after Dumbledore," said the girl excited. "What about dessert?"

"It's all good and under stasis," answered the wizard. "I can put them together in a second after we finished the main course."

Hermione beamed at him. "I'm really glad you went with these. I know it's a special recipe of yours."

Harry sniggered then opened the oven to take out a baking tray full of little round dollops which were covered in green sauce. "Before you think so high of me, let me show you something." He pointed at the glaze on each and every dollop.

"My god, Harry, are those...?"

"Yep," Harry smirked. "I had to make it somehow special just for the little prick."

She laughed, shaking her head resignedly. "I still think you should be nice with him."

"I will," nodded Harry solemnly, "he won't even notice these."

He put the tray back inside the oven under stasis charm and looked around. "You have the keys, don't forget, there's a box on the table for Ron with the desserts. Anything else I should know about?"

"Oh yes, the drinks!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "The wine needs to be kept between 10° and 15°C so don't put it in the fridge, it's under a cooling charm right now. If he asks what type is it, just give him the bottle, but if you're going with that, pour the wine out into the decanter first."

"And that is what exactly?" Harry asked with eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

"This thing right here," Hermione pointed at a glass bottle that looked like a very eclectic vase. "You let it breath in there for a couple of minutes. There's champagne in the fridge, I saved it from the Gala, so it should be quality. The scotch. Now this thing is nearly as old as you are, single-malt and when I say quality, I mean it."

"How much did this hurt my Gringotts account, Hermione?" asked the young man carefully touching the long bottle and dragging his thumb over the fine paper on the front.

"Very," she answered. "But you'll survive. There's ice in the fridge too, but if he's a fancy drinker, he will want water. Just a tad bit of it. I got you some crystal glasses for it, they are in the cupboard with the rest. You're going to need the bellied ones."

"Wine cooled not cold, pour into vase thingy, champagne cold, scotch with water not ice," Harry repeated dutifully. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Behave yourself. And don't let him rile you up," Smiled the girl gently. "Now go," she hushed him towards the door.

Harry put on his coat and a thick green scarf, Christmas gift from Molly, grabbed his keys and waved goodbye to Hermione. He was about to close the door, when she cried after him.

"Harry, wait! Flowers!"

"Are you mad? I'm not bringing him flowers!" he called back from the threshold.

"Come on," Hermione urged him then drew her wand and summoned a single red rose. "Take it."

"A rose? You're bonkers. Give me a thistle and let's get done with this."

***.***

Severus stared at his godson as if the boy would be crazy. He probably was, given what he had just asked of him.

"Let me get this straight," his drawl was followed by an elegant gesture of his hand. "You want me to dress up, as in my best robes that is, then go to an unknown park in the middle of Muggle London and wait there for whatever surprise you are about to give me for my birthday."

"Exactly," Draco nodded, sprawled in an armchair. "I would give it to you personally, but... that might not go as expected. This way, you will certainly get what you want."

"You do realize I detest surprises, correct?" Severus asked matter-of-factly.

"You won't detest this one. It's fine, more mature than you would expect, and comes bloody expensive. You like those kind of things, don't you?"

Severus stood up from the settee and walked around slowly in Draco's quarters. It was basically the same as every other teacher's: a sitting room, a bedroom and a bathroom. Maybe this one was a bit darker as it was closer to the Slytherin Common Rooms than the rest, but the blond still preferred this part of the castle.

"How expensive?" Severus asked suddenly, looking at the boy's books. He did not really care but he did not even want to say yes, yet. He needed some more time.

"You don't want to know," was Draco's answer which just made the Headmaster slightly more interested.

"But I do," he insisted.

There was a short break, and Severus heard a heavy glass being lifted, then Draco sipped from his scotch and the crystal knocked back on the mahogany table. "Ten," said the boy then quietly.

"That is not much," Severus rolled his eyes, though Draco couldn't see it.

"Thousand."

His own glass almost slipped out of from his fingers. He grasped it more firmly as he turned to face his godson. "Ten thousand what?"

"What do you think," flared the young, "that I'm going to pay with filthy muggle money for your gift? Galleon, of course."

"Of course," Severus breathed in deeply. That was a lot of money. More than what he made a whole year.

"It was not just a gift for you, it was also an investment. The sort that could benefit both of us in the next years, if you are clever tonight and go to that park. And that is as much as you get out of me. Now you either go or you don't. I don't care." Draco said, standing up. "But if you do, you better hurry. You're expected there at seven."

Severus knew this was some sort of set up but he was never good at resisting his curiosity. Draco of course was perfectly aware of his weak spot and always used it well against him. He downed his glass and turned around, scotch burning his throat, robes billowing around his body.

"And Severus," Draco called after him. "If you stay there, no matter what you see in that park, I'll get you a Defence professor, even if I have to give up Muggle Studies for it."

Severus left the cryptic young man without a word. He wasn't in the mood for riddles. It was more than enough that he had to spend his birthday night in a cold park instead of his comfortable armchair.

***.***

Severus apparated to the exact spot Draco had told him about. He stood probably right in the middle of an old park, close to a lamp but just out of its yellow light. He was surrounded by many great, bare trees and the winding pavement under his feet was made out of cobblestone. He was all alone, not even dog walkers or runner showed up as he waited like he was told. A small playground was to his left but only the wind rode the swings in these cold, late evening hours.

Even though he was wearing leather gloves, his hands, among other things, were freezing off. He rubbed them together and blew hot air on them which left his mouth in a streak of white haze. A shame he couldn't do the same with his balls too, as those were freezing off as well. He mulled over visiting one of the bars in Knockturn Alley to receive a birthday gift he actually needed and let another person warm up his iced up bollocks. That might not cost ten thousand galleons but surely it would feel better than standing in an empty park all by himself.

A few minutes later just when he was about to turn on his heels and disappear, he heard footsteps approaching. His fingers flexed around his wand as he watched a dark figure come closer. Somehow the shadowy shape seemed familiar as if he had seen it in a dream, however he knew it was impossible. Whoever it was, they were wearing thick coat, their face just a black spot and there was a chance they were not even what Severus was looking for. Although how would he know what he was looking for, when all he had was a vague "You'll know it, when you see it," from that bloody boy.

The person was just about to step into the light of the lamps still at least thirty feet away from Severus, when he noticed a flash as yellow beam reflected on round glasses. He knew before the person – _he __–_ stepped into the light whom to expect. He did not need the pale glow to tell him about the unruly hair that stuck out of the thick skull like a bird nest. He had fantasized about running his fingers through it many times to deduce how it would feel. He did not need the gentle illumination to tell him about the broad shoulders, the long legs, or the narrow hips. He had seen them enough in the newspapers he had secretly purchased just for this occasion. He did not need that blasted light to show him the face he knew by heart. He had seen it enough times in his dream. But the light was ruthless and it showed it to him and his pulse throbbed suddenly twice its normal speed.

What the hell did Draco think when he arranged this? Because it did not even occur to Severus that this was just an accident. It couldn't have been; accidents like this simply did not happen. Was this his birthday gift? Harry Potter, in the flesh? For ten thousand galleons? Fucking Christ, just what was Malfoy thinking? With every thought and question that rushed through his mind, Potter drew even closer on the paved sidewalk. If Severus decided to run now, he would never know what this was about, if he stayed he had to face something buried deeply inside him. Was he strong enough to do that? This was _Potter_, the constant variable in every situation. The entity that could never be predicted and therefore was dangerous and full of surprises. Two things Severus did not like, united in the one thing he desired.

There was only one lamp between them and Severus inhaled the cold air deeply to calm, or freeze his thundering heart. Then he stepped into the light.

His sudden motion made Potter alarmed and he immediately reached for his wand. A gesture that would have been invisible to anyone except for trained eyes and probably for those who, like Severus, expected the motion. Then the green eyes shifted on his body and Potter's steps halted.

"Fucking hell..." He groaned and Severus couldn't help but agree with him.

"My thoughts exactly," he reacted closing that last couple of feet of distance between them. "I assume you are not here by accident, Mister Potter."

"No," Potter smiled and Severus detected irritation in his voice, which was even more evidence that he was not the only one that was set up. "I'm here to pick up my _date_."

"Which would be Draco Malfoy, am I correct?" When Potter nodded biting into his lower lip, Severus added, "He will not be coming."

"Yeah, I gathered that much," sighed the young man. He looked around, probably hoping to find words to tell off Snape in a not so offending manner. Nothing comprehensive must have come to him because he just cleared his throat and drew five fingers through his hair. "Sorry, I-I just didn't expect you."

Severus didn't want to admit he was fooled by someone twenty years his junior, so he remained quiet.

"You know what," Potter started shaking himself and Severus thought, '_Here it comes_'. But goodbye wasn't what Potter said next and his words just proved Severus' earlier philosophy considering this twat being the constant variable in his damned life. "That wasn't a very nice welcome. Let's start this over." With that, Potter held out his right hand expectantly. "Hello Professor Snape."

Severus watched the stretched out hand for a second or so, then slowly pulled off the glove from his right also extending it. Potter's fingers grasped around his palm; they were warm, so much warmer than his own and he never wanted to let go. But then a thought came to his mind about those hands warming other parts of him, such as his balls, because really they were freezing off and he hastily let go. "Good evening, Mister Potter."

Potter was smiling up at him as he sunk his hand back into his pocket. "How about we continue this at my place? You seem like you're not good with cold," suggested the young man.

Severus huffed, that was an understatement. "Lead the way."

The road to Potter's flat was short and quiet. They did not talk while they strode across the small park, only when they arrived to the building right across it, did Potter say, "This is it," and that was all their communication. Severus believed in the notion that silence was gold and that the less was sometimes more but at the moment he had about a million and one questions he just did not know how to start asking them.

Potter lived on the second floor of a muggle building. After he was invited in, Potter took his coat then showed him around. His living room was spacious and most importantly warm. There was a huge fireplace, no doubt connected to the Floo Network, spouting the welcomed heat. In front of it, were an old rug and two big, comfortable looking chairs and a settee. The walls were covered with shelves which were stuffed with books. Three doors opened from here to the guestroom, bedroom and bathroom, Potter told him, and the kitchen was separated with a big archway. The flat looked nice and tidy and nothing Severus would have imagined.

They walked to the kitchen and Severus was surprised to see the table was nicely set. Black, elegant plates, shiny silver cutleries and wine glasses – there was two of everything, except a candle. That stood alone in the middle, its light flickering slightly as Potter moved around. Severus watched the romantic setting slightly astonished.

"Would you like to drink something?" Potter asked and his tone was soft. Perhaps he had seen Severus's confusion. Or maybe he was just as confused as Severus was. "Wine, scotch, champagne?

"What kind of wine?" Severus inquired and Potter handed him the bottle right away. He gave the young man a frowning look but Potter just stood there, leaning against the counter with his hip, arms folded. "A very nice Cabernet," Severus gave it back after giving the paper a fleeting glance.

"Thanks," Potter nodded then turned his back on him. He tapped the top with his wand and the cork slipped out easily. He reached for a decanter and started pouring out the velvety drink.

"That is a Malbec in your hand, Potter. How so, you do not even know the wine you purchased for your _date_." The word slipped out before he could stop himself. Potter's shoulders slumped slightly and Severus was about to get ready for their first argument but then the most unusual sound came to his ears: a deep rumbling laughter issued by Potter himself. He tried to stifle the reaction it set off in his body, but he couldn't help the sudden arousal.

"And I'm busted already, aren't I?" Laughed the young man, leaning with his hands onto the counter but turning his head towards Severus. He grabbed the decanter and motioned for his old teacher to take a seat. After Severus sat down he plopped down too, pouring a good three fingers of wine into both glasses.

The headmaster twirled the almost ink dark liquid in the spotless glass watching as it ran down on the side, then sniffed it lightly. The fact that Potter was already drinking it assured him that the idiot had not a single clue of what he was tasting. Severus on the other hand did, so he first took a small sip and let it roll around his tongue. The Malbec had a slight blackberry flavour and was less acidic then the Merlot or Cabernet he usually purchased. It left behind a tinge of tobacco and something sweeter... "Damsons." He only realized he finished his thought aloud when he noticed the sharp green eyes on him. He took another gulp and let the velvety, dark liquid run down his throat like a caress.

"Damsons?" Potter asked frowning his eyebrows. "There's no plum in this," he said then and for a second Severus thought he was being serious. But then the full lips twitched and Severus had to realize, Potter maybe wasn't as inept as he thought. Just almost.

"The aftertaste," Severus explained and Potter looked thoughtful for a second, tasting his own tongue.

Severus wondered if he could taste the damson or the blackberry on that tongue. He certainly wanted to try. Alcohol probably was not his best choice for tonight.

Potter shrugged and drank once again. Seeing the older man's eyes roll, he smiled as he confessed, "I have no idea about wines. I like them, but I'm no expert. Hermione brought this... this... Malbec, you said? Yes. Well, Malfoy said he doesn't drink grape juice, so I had to buy something quality."

"If you do not mind the inquiry, do you maybe know anything about this ten thousand galleon my godson offhandedly mentioned?" After all, he needed to know what exactly his birthday gift was.

"Well..." Potter let out soft titter. "That would be me. I mean, my price. That's how much he paid for me."

The air stopped flowing in Severus' pipes and his heartbeat turned suddenly irregular. He had to clear his throat to speak again. "And just what kind of services did Draco purchase that involved yourself as well?" He asked giving Potter an intense look, hoping the young man would comprehend what his sentence had just insinuated.

The other wizard understood he was trying to tell him something without actually asking the question but for a moment, Potter just stared back at him. The he cried, "Oh! No, no, nothing like that!" There was another groin stirring chuckle, then he added, "I was sold at a charity auction last weekend. Malfoy bought me. Well, this evening with me. Walk, drinks, dinner."

"A date, you mean," corrected Severus.

"Well, up until the point I realized the bid was coming from that prick I referred to it as a date too, yes. Since then, this was just an evening I had to get over with. Since I've seen you... well, I'm just confused."

Being rather cross with Draco at the moment, he did not call out the young man upon referring to his godson as a 'prick'. That he was.

"Not that I miss him, but what happened to Malfoy? He's not ill, is he?"

No matter how hard he tried, Potter could not close out the hopeful tone from his voice. That almost made Severus smile. But just almost.

"You shall not be worried, Mister Potter. Draco is perfectly well and probably enjoying a nice dinner at Hogwarts," Severus answered, sipping a bit of his nice wine.

"And yet, I'm sitting here with you, not with him," pointed it out Potter. "Not that I mind the change."

"Well, Mister Potter, I am afraid I am here to collect my birthday gift," professed Severus grudgingly.

"Your what?" Potter looked around as if expecting a box to have appeared in the meanwhile out of nowhere that he was supposed to give away just no one had mentioned it earlier.

"I was told that in that park I could collect my gift. Namely something fine, more mature than I would expect, and comes bloody expensive. Do you maybe have knowledge about anything that fits this description and is waiting to be collected by me?"

There was a slight blush on Potter's cheeks all of a sudden, hardly caused by the glass of wine he had consumed. '_Well, well, well, isn__'__t that interesting_', Severus thought.

Potter meanwhile, sat up a bit more straight. "Well, I don't know. Am I fine and more mature than you expected?"

Severus let his eyes linger on the young man in front of him. Fine was an understatement and the face in front of him had matured in the last five years that was for certain. As for the mind? They had been sitting at a table drinking wine while managing an almost interesting conversation. "Why, Mister Potter, I think you indeed are."

Potter held his arms aside. "In that case, happy birthday. I'm your gift."

Severus' whole body hummed in appreciation to those words. He had only one question left: when could he take this so very nice present home and play with him until they both got sore and tired?

Thankfully, before he could ask, Potter spoke up again with a sneer. "I've always loved to be objectified."

Immediately, Severus was reminded of a sulky teenage boy angry at the whole world. It was an unpleasant kick to the guts and his reaction came a bit harsher than he meant it to be, "Well, you have been bought already, surely being gifted to someone is not such a big jump from there."

"Surely." Potter agreed tersely, then he asked, "Did you _want_ to be gifted with me, or is this just an inside joke between the two of you I can't understand?"

He was tense, Severus could sense it. Potter always lashed out even more when he felt insecure. It was something the two of them resembled in each other. "No need to be worried or offended, it is neither," he assured the young man. The wine was fine and he wouldn't mind another glass so they had to keep talking. Besides, the real reason why Draco had sent him here was still left unspoken. Though Severus preferred it that way, he also had to admit, he was considering asking that certain question. After all, Draco had paid ten thousand galleons for it. And there was no doubt in Severus anymore, why exactly he was given this particularly fine gift.

"Then why?" Meanwhile Potter still couldn't shake the anxiousness off his mind. Quite understandable.

"I am sure you heard about what had happened to my Defence against the Dark Arts professor, yes?" He asked the young who had the cheek to actually laugh.

"The whole Wizarding World did. Who's teaching it now?"

"I am," stated Severus calmly. He expected more laughter or an uproar or snarky comments, but nothing like that came.

Potter nodded, pursing his lush lips and said, "Good for your students not so good for you if what Minerva says is true. You would be having way too much work to do as Headmaster already."

Severus raised an eyebrow and he didn't even try to conceal he was surprised that first of all Potter was conversing with his deputy and secondly that the topic was his workload. He decided to speak the truth. "In fact, I have. That is where Draco and this little... date comes to the picture. I have a theory, which Draco believes to be true. He's trying to help me in his own ways. No matter how delusional these ways may be."

The young man smiled at the remark then poured some more Malbec for both himself and Severus. "What theory?"

"I am sure you have heard of the curse on the job."

"Yes. Ever since Riddle wanted the job and Dumbledore declined him, no one has stayed for more than a year."

"Or even for a year in most cases," Snape added shaking his head, recalling the eight professors in the past eight years. "The curse needs to be broken."

"And you think I can help you with that?"

Severus took a deep breath, and then let it out in a long tired sounding exhale. "I, and a few others, believe that you on the post should break the curse, yes."

"Wait, hold on! You want _me_ to teach at _your_ school?" Potter guffawed. "And Malfoy had to pay thousands of gallons so you can tell this to me? Why didn't you just give me a firecall? Or owl me? You do realize I work as a curse breaker nowadays, right? I mean like officially."

Of course he knew that. He had seen the advertisement in the Prophet many times. Snape stayed quiet for a while, just calmly sipping his wine, enjoying the ink deep coloured, velvety, sensual drink as it took over his senses. He was sure, this was as long as their pleasant conversation would last because his next answer would certainly anger Potter.

He shrugged slightly and looked hard into the emerald eyes. "I do not ask favours from Potters."

Potter was fucking smirking as he answered almost right away, "Well, you will have to. If you want _me,_ you'll have to ask."

"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you? Seeing me on my knees, begging for you." Severus sneered.

The blush on Potter's cheeks returned. "I'm not going to lie, it does have an appeal. The same way as I'm sure, you'd love to have me under your hands, wouldn't you? Taking orders without a word, silently obeying like a good little boy?"

Severus was about to take another sip of wine but his hand stopped midair. Potter's tone of voice changed. It was all of a sudden darker. He expected the young to shout, yet Potter didn't lose control. His voice was steady and teasing.

Was that a well disguised attempt at flirting? The very notion sounded so ridiculous, Severus wanted to laugh out, but the fact remained. He placed the glass slowly back on the table and leaned forward. "Are we still talking about the job, Mister Potter?" He asked narrowing his eyes slightly. His voice was like the Malbec, a bit smoky, velvety and extremely dark.

Potter bent back and put his elbow on the back of his chair as he answered as casually as one could, "Of course we are."

Severus let one corner of his lips draw up into a half smirk. "Of course. So, will you take it?"

"Surely you can do a better job than that," Potter grinned confidently, rolling the bottom of his glass on the white tablecloth.

"Surely, you can kiss my arse," Severus sneered not entirely with malicious intent.

The other wizard laughed again, just like his voice this rang out darker too. "I could yes," he smirked and leaned forward. The glowing light from the little candle in between them flickered in the green eyes, making them look even more mischievous. "When I work under you."

Severus watched the handsome young face in front of him and imagined for a second how it would be to see it every day, during every breakfast, lunch, dinner and staff meeting. He imagined how it would be to return to focus solely on his Headmaster duties, to sleep through the nights, to have time to have a cup with Minerva. He imagined the students, eager to impress their young hero. Then he imagined Potter saying no and laughing at him, the green eyes taunting him.

He tried to read Potter's face but all he saw that the emerald pools were darting occasionally down at his lips then back at his eyes, as if Potter wasn't able to keep them there.

Severus drew his pointing finger softly over his lower lip considering his chances. When he saw Potter mirror the motion with his tongue, he decided to acquiesce. "Mister Potter, would you do me the honour and accept being my Defence against the Dark Arts professor for the end of this semester and for the entire next year?"

_'__Mine__'_, Severus thought. _'__Not Hogwarts__'__ or the students__'__. Mine.__'_

Potter grinned brightly. "Why, Professor Snape, I would love to. When can I start?" He asked eagerly.

As always, Potter once again did the unexpected. Severus downed the rest of his wine and leaning on the table, stood up. "See you on Monday, Potter."

The smile was gone and the young man's warm hand darted out to touch his, to hold it where it was. "Hold on! And what about your birthday gift?"

It wasn't the first time this evening that Severus was surprised, but this time he did his best to conceal it. "Excuse me?" He drawled.

"I'm your gift, remember?" Potter smiled not yet withdrawing his fingers. Severus remembered all right, the idea enticing enough to keep his lower parts stirring all night. "Draco had bought me and passed me onto you. Yes, he had his motives but he still paid a lot for a dinner with me."

Slowly, Severus sat back and finally Potter took back his hand just to touch his glass. His thumb was stroking the stem of the crystal and Severus did not fail to notice it. "You _want_ to have dinner with me?" He asked carefully.

Nonchalant smile and tensing posture was the young man's reaction. "That's some good wine already opened there," he indicated the decanter, "and I have some nice Angus, fresh from the pan waiting for the stasis to be lifted. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. And besides, we're colleagues now, right?"

"You are mistaken, Potter, I will be your employer. But not yet, we still have to sign some papers. Right now, we are just... two individuals."

"Men," corrected Potter his tone once again darker and lower. "So what do you say?"

"I wouldn't mind more of this wine," Severus accepted. "Consider this your interview, Potter."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Snape," grinned the young man as he stood up. He poured some more wine then excused himself for a moment.

Severus watched the retreating man, swinging hips, long legs, broad shoulders, lithe body and round, tight arse that screamed to be fucked hard into a bed as someone, _Severus_, pounded wildly into it. Sipping the expensive wine he let his mind wonder how it would feel to actually have Potter under his hand. Potter had been wrong, Severus did not want obedience from the young man, but he wanted his usual fierceness. He ran his palm firmly over his thigh, trying to chase away his arousal, and it didn't help that he could see inside the bedroom to where his dinner partner had disappeared to. Potter didn't turn on any lamps; it seemed he could navigate perfectly even in pitch black. His figure was darker than the rest of the room as he stood in front of the window and removed his clothing one by one. Severus swore under his breath and had to grasp into the edge of the table to stop himself from stalking in there and taking his rightful birthday present. A moment later, Potter was coming towards the kitchen, wearing black pants and a wine red button up shirt. The top button was left undone, revealing a silver hem on the inside running around the slim neck. The cuffs were the same light grey colour but Potter rolled those up after he tucked his shirt neatly into the tight pants.

"Going Gryffindor, are we?" He smirked when the young man walked back into the kitchen.

Potter tittered as he said, "I'm going _Antonio_." Standing at the counter, he lifted the tops from two plates and served one of them to Severus with an elegant, small bow, before he plopped back onto his seat. He was still smiling probably because he knew Severus could not hold back the inquiry.

"Antonio?"

"Yes, that's what my shirt's called," his laughter sounded slightly awkward as if even he realized that sounded extremely stupid.

"I am afraid you will need to elaborate on that if you wish me to continue this..." For a second, it occurred to Severus, he should not, but the wine was thick and he hadn't eaten much in these past days and the word slipped out. "...date."

Emerald eyes snapped at him with a familiarly teasing twinkle in them. "I thought this was my interview, not _our_ date."

_Damn you, Potter_, Severus thought feeling trapped. "This is a dinner, nothing more, nothing less," Severus tried evasively.

Potter's smirk didn't wane as he forked into his salad. "I met this Italian designer at the auction. He had made the suit I wore that evening. He told me, he named all his creations after his lovers. This was a present he gave me after the event. He said, he was sad that he couldn't have a _Harry,_ so I should at least accept _Antonio_, as a reminder of what I missed."

Severus pierced the fork too vehemently through a piece of plum tomato and it clinked loudly against the china. The sound rang in his ears along with Potter's words. "Surely you managed to leave such an impression on him that he has enough to fashion a '_Harry_'."

"Oh no," Potter said, his tone amused. "He did tell me what he'd usually done with those who then received the honour to give their names to these clothes. Believe me, I couldn't leave an impression like that just by talking to the guy."

"Now I am intrigued," Severus raised an eyebrow. "What does someone have to do to be a muse to such pleasing creation?"

Potter cleared his throat and placed his fork on the side of his plate. He rolled the glass on the table, clearly uncomfortable, which entertained Severus even more. He then took a small sip and smirked at Severus over the rim.

"Are you sure you want to hear the tour to an artist's bedroom, Snape? I didn't know what to expect but now that I know, I wish I didn't."

Severus's gaze darted from one green orb to the other. The candlelight flickered in them or perhaps it was something else. He put down his fork and signed to Potter with his hand to go on. The young man shrugged, his expression telling Severus, '_You asked for it_'.

His lush lips said something else. "He wasn't fucking him, he told me. He made _love _and_ art_. He tied Antonio down so tightly he couldn't move a muscle and the restraint left marks on his wrists and ankles, around his neck and thighs. He didn't touch him at first. Just watched him as he lied before him, blindfolded and gagged, his body naked and needy and hard. Shall I go on?" Potter leaned forward.

Severus mirrored the motion, taking a calming breath. "You have my attention." Since when was his voice so husky and low?

"Antonio was special; he wasn't yet broken in when he got him. He fought against him, the same way as I would, he said to me that evening. You see this silver," Potter asked in a velvety voice, pulling the shirt slightly away from his neck, showing more of the light grey rim and his bare skin. He was talking slowly, leisurely. "This was the colour of the silk he used to tie him out at the first time. Lean closer, Snape," he instructed Severus who obeyed. Potter's clear scent filled up his mind while his own pulsing blood cursing through his veins filled up his cock. "You see those tiny black dots? Those were pins that cut into Antonio's skin. They drew blood when he tensed against the restraints. You see how the fabric slightly reflects the light? That was the sweat on Antonio's body as he became more aroused when Ettore stroked his back with the whip. The fabric is made out of the smoothest, rarest silk, would you like to feel it? Let me tell you it is an amazing sensation to feel it touching me." Potter stretched his arm closer to Severus who reached out too and slid the tip of his fingers over Potter's upper arm.

"Yes, it must be," he agreed, hypnotically staring at the maddeningly green eyes that relentlessly held his gaze through the entire monologue.

"Antonio's skin was smooth like this, too; the softest thing Ettore had ever touched," Potter smirked as he tilted his head lightly. "Until he touched mine, he said."

Severus' fingers unconsciously tightened on the firm arm so he withdrew quickly. He leant back, trying to get out of Potter's mesmerizing aura. But of course, that was impossible as the young man went on.

"The whip came down on Antonio's back twelve times," Potter's fingers ran down on the front of his body, indicating the eight buttons. Other four must have been the ones on the cuffs. "And by the end he was screaming in pleasure. There are two hidden buttons on the underside of the collar, too" he showed Severus the mentioned accessories. "He told me he used the lash twice on Antonio's front, too. But that was their secret, the pain Antonio loved the most, that's why it's hidden. The collar and the cuffs are enforced to make it hard, like Antonio was back then."

Severus had to drink a heavy gulp of wine because his mouth was dry as the desert, however it did not help. He suspected he needed Potter's cock in his mouth to wet it again. He knew if he looked away from Potter first he would lose this game, whatever game this was, so he stared into the emerald pools, barely blinking. It was excruciating to watch Potter this keenly, while under the table his cock was becoming harder with every piece of new information about Antonio. It wasn't the details that turned him on so much, unlike Draco and his former Defence professor, he wasn't into anything like this. It was _Potter_. Those words, formed by Potter's full lips, his eyes looking at him intensely, his scent invading his mind, his tone filling his ears.

"The whip tore into Antonio's skin, drawing his blood. That gave the colour of the shirt. And you see how tightly it fits around me?" Potter straightened himself and slid his palms over both his sides. It did stretch on him enticingly like a second skin, the buttons almost about to snap. Severus nodded wordless and the young man continued his unhurried description. "That's how tight Antonio was around Ettore. And finally, the colour of the buttons."

Potter bent forward again to give Severus an opportunity to take a closer look at said buttons. They were a rather deep pink, with tiny streaks of white in them, like the lines in marble stone.

"Let me guess," Severus drawled aiming for a careless tone, though it still came out huskier and deeper than usual. "Antonio's spunk covered cock?"

Potter's laugh was sensually deep and his eyes closed for a moment, then the emerald gaze was back on Severus. "That was my guess, too, and we almost got it. But no. Ettore told me he pulled out just before he came. This colour here," Potter flicked one of the buttons with his fingernail, "it's his semen mixed with Antonio's blood."

The young man leant back, sipping his ink dark Malbec, apparently finished with the tale.

"Remarkable story, Potter. Surely you do not expect me to believe it?" Severus asked sneering. No matter what his mind believed, his cock was already convinced.

"Oh you don't believe me?" Potter asked in a challenging tone, but smiling relaxed now. The teasing, dark tone was gone from his voice, it was all of a sudden light and friendly. "Feel free to check the next WQ, it's coming out next month, I think. The Auction will be their cover story and I'm sure this made it into the report." He grabbed his fork again and started eating his salad, which still lay forgotten in front of them. "You see, I didn't have the pleasure to hear this from Ettore intimate like this. No, I heard this story in a Ball Room full of reporters and guests, people I didn't know, have never meet and probably will never see again. I met even Ettore just that day and suddenly I'm listening to this story about his bedroom habits. Up until that point, I didn't even know a _whip_ was considered a toy in some circles. How can someone even enjoy that?"

"You should ask Draco," Severus advised.

"What?" Potter snorted and Severus started eating again too.

"Oops," he said between small bites of bread and tomato, not feeling apologetic in the slightest. "I probably should not have told you that. But then again, he probably should not have organized this behind my back. And you heard me correctly. If you are interested in this sort of activities, you may ask Draco or Roger, your latest predecessor in the Defence job. They both seemed to have an in-depth knowledge of the topic."

"Yeah, no, thanks. I think I already know more than I should," groaned the young man, pushing his plate away, waiting for Severus to finish as well. When he did, Potter took the plates, vanished the leftovers and slipped them into the sink. He served the main course then poured out the last of the Malbec.

Severus watched him as he sat back then remarked quietly, "And just to think you specifically _changed_ into that shirt to have dinner with me... What message does that convey, do you think?" smiled the headmaster smugly.

Potter cut into his steak, the knife running through the juicy meat easily. "Hah! Don't get the wrong picture here, Snape. I wouldn't dress up for a prick like Malfoy, but you're an entirely different matter. And I'm wearing this shirt because all the others are in the laundry. What you see now, this isn't me. Usually there's a mess here, artefacts lying all around and I don't cook."

"Speaking of which, what exactly am I having?" Severus asked poking a strawberry with his fork. "And who is the chef I should thank it for?"

"You just had a Tuscan bread salad and now you're eating a filet mignon with balsamic strawberry and mashed potatoes. And of course it's Hermione's merit. And before you say anything, I promised a home cooked dinner but I never said who would cook it at home."

"Give my appreciation to Miss Granger. This is remarkably good."

"Just wait 'til you have the dessert," smirked Potter.

They finished the main course whilst having a polite chat about life at Hogwarts and as a curse breaker. Severus let the young man in on what life was like while having a curse on one of the school positions and Potter had told him, that as he worked alone it would not be a problem for him to change jobs, though he might disappear for some of the weekends as he was still expected to be an active member of the charity events planned for the first half of the year. They went through all the people they both knew, updating each other's information on them, and Severus told Potter even about the previous Defence professor. The young man asked a few questions about the job and the curriculum and they agreed to meet the next day to talk it though and sign the papers. Soon the steak was gone and so was the last of the Malbec.

"Can you handle a bit more alcohol?" Potter asked standing up. He handed the glasses and the scotch to Snape to open it, while he prepared the dessert. "Do you need ice or water?"

"Potter this is wizard-made scotch," Severus groaned holding the precious bottle in his hands, caressing it softly. "It has been mellowed for twenty-one years in a barrel made out of the wood of a whomping willow. This drink is like rough sex, you do not dilute this with gentleness to take off the edge. You drink it to _enjoy_ the edge."

"Understood, sir," Potter grinned over his shoulder as Severus poured some into the big bellied glasses. Crossing his leg on his knee, he turned towards Potter who was busy with their dessert. Severus hoped he managed to keep his arm in a way that prevented Potter from seeing his hard on when he turned around to take one of the glasses.

"To rough sex," Potter grinned, clinking his glass to Severus'.

"To rough sex," Severus repeated, watching the taut arse in front of him as Potter returned to the sweets. "Did Miss Granger have to depart hastily?" Severus wondered loudly.

"No," came the answer in a light tone. "The desert is all me."

The smoky, burning scotch went down the wrong pipe but still kicked Severus in the guts like the heavy branch of a whomping willow. He coughed a couple of times, not risking a glance at Potter who surely was grinning smugly over him.

"I meant to say," arrived the apologetic voice when Severus' throat finally didn't feel like someone just jammed a flaming torch down there, "I made it all. It's my specialty. Malfoy said he... well... _you_ like something chocolatey, so I made my favourite." As he talked, he turned around and came closer to their table, carrying a plate. After he put it down in the middle, he sat down again.

Severus watched the six small tower like sweets, trying to figure out why they were so special. Each tower consisted of three dollops dipped in three differently coloured glaze. A pale lilac on the bottom, then sallow green in the middle and finally red. They looked like doughnuts in three different shapes put on top of each other and crowned with a single piece of cocoa bean. Severus hoped that was not all the chocolate Potter talked about.

"What is this?" he asked primly.

"Courtesan au Chocolat*," Potter answered beaming proudly at his creations.

Once again, the young man managed to prove that anything related to him was _never_ what Severus had expected.

"My French may be slightly rusty, Potter," Severus reacted calmly. "Are you actually serving me chocolate whores?"

"Courtesans, Snape," Potter said with respect towards the cakes. "There's a difference."

"Oh what a delight," Severus chuckled darkly. "I must confess no one has ever given me a courtesan for my birthday."

Severus watched Potter take one of the towers, not being sure how one ate a courtesan. The young man flicked off the chocolate bean then lifted the top dollop and turning it upside down, squished it slightly between his thumb and pointing finger. He licked off the leaking chocolate filling, before he said, "Except Malfoy."

Dark gaze shifted from wet, chocolate covered lip to green eyes. Severus needed all his strength to remain seated and calm. "I hope you are not referring to yourself now."

"Some of them were respected women who provided their company, valuable insights, and help to their king, for which they received political or financial support," Potter replied lightly.

"And they slept with their king," Severus purred in a low voice.

"Sometimes they did," Potter agreed, then added. "Why don't you try them?"

"Courtesans or the cake?"

If the young man had said the first, he probably would have fucked Potter on the kitchen counter, smearing the chocolate filling over his body before licking it off.

But Potter just motioned at the cakes with his fingers without a word. Severus took off the chocolate bean and raised the top ball to his lips. Followed by Potter's avid gaze, he gave an experimental lick to the glaze, then slowly sunk his teeth into the dollop. Potter cleared his throat and leaned back.

Severus wanted to moan. If the scotch was rough sex, the Courtesan au Chocolat was lovemaking. It was sweet and soft, the filling, like custard, melted on his tongue and ensnared his senses.

"Compliments to the chef, Mister Potter. This is quite enticing."

"Now you know why they are my favourite," smiled Potter, taking another delicious ball.

Severus looked at the sweet, something suddenly catching his eyes. There was a remarkably familiar decoration on the glaze, which he would not have noticed if the top dollop remains in place and they used cutlery to eat. But they used fingers, which could be licked to further agonize the other and as Severus licked his own, he spotted the motive.

"Mister Potter, did you draw cocks on these?"

"Shit, of course you had to notice," Potter laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry. Really sorry. They were after all meant for Malfoy," he reasoned with a twitch of his shoulders.

"That is remarkably childish, Potter." Severus could not help it anymore, he laughed slightly too.

The rest of the evening was spent with another series of polite and meaningless conversations. Potter's clock signed midnight and Severus grudgingly stood up from the table to say goodbye to this extraordinary evening. Potter prepared him a box of the leftover Courtesans and made him promise that he would give some to Malfoy, then he escorted Severus to the fireplace.

"Snape, when was your birthday?" Potter asked as they stood in the middle of the living room.

"Today. Well, given it is already past midnight, it would be more accurate to say it was yesterday."

"Sorry I'm late then," he smiled before he added, "Happy Birthday," and the green eyes closed and Potter kissed his cheek. Not just pressed his lips against his skin, actually kissed him, Severus could feel the soft lips move against him. He almost grabbed the idiot to push his tongue inside that cheeky mouth and show Potter how one properly ate chocolate courtesans but then the young man withdrew.

"I forgot something," Potter smiled suddenly and rushed back to the front door to take something out of this coat. In the meanwhile, Severus threw a fistful of Floo Powder into the fire, desperate to be as far away from here as possible. Potter returned when the green flames burst up and held out a single rose.

"I wanted to go with a thistle," he said with a grin. "But Hermione insisted."

"Thistle would have been more useful," Severus took the flower, letting three of his fingers run gently over Potter's hand and knuckles. "It is one of the main ingredients of a hangover potion, which I will most certainly be needing tomorrow." He explained and held out his right hand as he said in a low voice, "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Potter,"

"The pleasure was all mine," Potter smiled back. He didn't let go of his hand while he asked, "So tell me, Snape, was this a business dinner or a dinner date?"

Moving one step closer to Potter, Severus let his voice drop and octave and turn seductive. "If this had been a dinner date, I would not be walking _out_ of your flat but _into_ your bedroom now, wouldn't I?"

Potter leaned even closer to him and his arousing, fresh scent invaded Severus' sensitive nose. "I can't wait to work with you," groaned Potter in a very low whisper.

"And I cannot wait to get rid of you," answered Snape, twirling around and disappearing in a burst of flame.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*Courtesan au Chocolat <em>is a cake featured in Wes Anderson' film Grand Budapest Hotel. It looks really delicious :3**

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><p><em>Am I managing this 'ensnare the senses' thing?<em>


	3. Drawn

_This one turned out to be so long that I had to cut in in half, so now we'll have six chapters. I hope you dont mind :)_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_Drawn to the Handsome Italian in the Staff Room_

**_*.*_**

Teaching at Hogwarts was better than Harry had expected, even though his expectations were high enough already. Being back in his old school – _home_ – felt amazing. Just walking into the huge castle had lifted his soul, not to mention meeting all his previous teachers, who were now his colleagues. Professor McGonagall became Minerva, little Professor Flitwick was all of a sudden Filius and there was of course Pomona and Poppy, and many others too. Hagrid remained just Hagrid but, seeing him was still great as now he could spend afternoons with his first friend, just like back in the old days. Malfoy was there too, but they didn't really pay much attention to each other, which was much better than what was going on during their school years. And of course, there was his employer.

Snape remained Snape or even worse become Headmaster Snape, despite their business dinner/dinner date. Harry had still become excited just by thinking about that evening. The things he had said while Snape had his intense ink black eyes on his, bloody hell... How he managed to get through that evening without slipping under the table and licking something more delicious than some chocolate courtesan was beyond him. Yet here in the school, Snape was the poster boy – man – for professionalism. They hadn't even had a private conversation since Harry started teaching, not that Harry would have looked him up in his office. With the dinners and teas with Hagrid, the occasional cup with Minerva and the many essays and tests and preparing for all his lessons, he didn't really have time to hunt headmasters.

But it was all worth it. He _loved_ teaching. It was Dumbledore's Army all over again, except this time, everything was taken much more seriously and he had to prepare the lecture well ahead, but the students, they were still amazing. They seemed to like Harry a lot; he liked to think almost as much as he had liked Remus' lessons. He tried his best to make the classes interesting and entertaining, and the kids active. There was a lot of foolish wand waving and silly incantations, Snape would have probably detested, but there were readings and essays and oh yeah, detentions too. Not a lot, thankfully. His students realized after the first week that despite his own Hogwarts history, he did take order in the classroom seriously.

And _finally_, he could roam around the whole castle freely. No one told him to return to his room, he didn't have to wear his Invisibility Cloak, he didn't have to use the Marauders Map to hide when Minerva suddenly came around the corner.

Or in this case, Headmaster Severus Snape, himself.

"Potter! What the hell are you doing out of bed this late?" Asked the man as they ran into each other on a dark corner sometime after one. Harry had been patrolling or more like, picking up his Gryffindors and sending them back to bed with a bit of point loss, before Filch would do the same just with more venom, spit and promises of horrid, bloody detentions.

Harry's cheeky grin made the man frown. "You do realize I can be out of bed this late now, right?" He asked the Headmaster.

Snape seemed intimidated for only a second than the expression was overtaken by a sneer.

"Just because you are now allowed to, it does not mean you should," Snape said.

Harry considered the words and they were more than accurate though, he thought, not regarding his midnight strolls, rather his astray contemplation on his employer and his certain body parts. "How true," he agreed. "Then I guess I should have just let those kids wander around."

Even in the dark, he could see the small tug in the corner of Snape's lips. "How many did you catch?" Asked the man casually.

"Three. Two Gryffindors, then later on a Hufflepuff," Harry answered dutifully.

"Detention or just points?"

"Nothing from the Hufflepuff, she was sleepwalking. The other two got points taken from them, but no detention."

"Do not go easy on them just because they are in your former House. I expect you to treat all the children the same."

Harry's smile was sarcastic, just like his tone as he said, "Because you had treated them all with the same kindness and understanding, right, Headmaster Snape? And besides, one of them had his head in the other's lap; it was punishment enough that I walked in on them."

"Oh really? You should have given detention even more, Potter. Do not be such a soft hearted professor, these children need a strong hand," advised Snape, in a friendly manner. Surprisingly, he wasn't lecturing Harry.

"Since when are the kids so... depraved, anyway?" groaned Harry as he started walking towards the seventh floor, hoping that Snape would follow without any questions. "Back when I was a kid-"

"They did the same, I assure you," Snape said grimly. "All those messed up hormones, morning woods... this school is always full of horny teenagers. Do not tell me you never..."

"What with, Basilisks, and Death Eaters and Acromantulas after me every year? Didn't really have the time," blushed Harry. Why exactly where they talking about this? He kept strolling on the corridors. Snape must have thought he did so without any aim in mind, but Harry had the destination clear in his head. Ever since he had returned he had wondered if the Room of Requirement was still there or just an empty, burnt out hole in the ancient walls. He also wondered if Snape knew about it. He hoped not – he wanted to impress the Headmaster.

"Come now Potter, are you telling me _you_, of all people, have never done anything depraved in these corridors?" The headmaster asked his voice almost cheerful. There was certainly glee in it. Snape was gloating at his lack of _depravity_, of all things.

"What, you did?" Harry snapped back.

"Certainly. I had gotten more blow jobs here, than out of the castle in the next couple of years, that one is for sure." Snape's cool answer left him hot and bothered. He really didn't need to know that. Not after their dinner. Not after he had held his own cock, while recalling Snape's intense gaze on him. And definitely not after he had cried Snape's name, as in bloody _first_ name, when he shot hot, sticky come on his fingers.

Harry started roaming the corridor in front of the entrance of the Come and Go Room, desperately not thinking about beds, lubes or other equipment.

"Why are we here, Potter?" Snape asked suspiciously squinting at the door that formed behind Harry's back.

"So you know where we are?" Harry asked back as he pushed the door open. Luckily, there were no beds, or anything in the sexual nature. As he tried to empty his head while thinking of a place, the room was rather empty as well. It turned into a round area, with a hole in the wall opposite the door. The hole opened into the crispy night air with a rather large balcony, bordered with iron railing. The moon looking only like a very thin 'C' on the dark sky did its best to shine through the heavy clouds but the darkness seemed to have won this fight already. Harry could barely see the Grounds and he didn't even try to make out the mountains far away. Even Snape was hard to find as the man fit right in their surroundings.

"Of course I know of this place," Snape said in a low voice, all of a sudden right behind Harry. The young man could feel the other's presence on his heels as they walked closer to the handrail. "The Room of Requirement. Who do you think had kept the Carrows off this place, all through that time your dear friends had been hiding in here?"

Harry turned around swiftly and Snape bumped into him. "You did?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter, even an imbecile like Umbridge found a way in there and the Carrows were armed with Dark Magic," explained the man stepping to the side and walking past Harry. His hand ghosted across Harry's abdomen, as if the headmaster needed to feel where Harry ended and the rest of the world started.

Harry, heart filled with gratefulness, watched as Snape leant with his elbows onto the thick iron. They were high enough; the constantly blowing cold wind swept gently across his shoulder length hair and caressed the raven curls like a lover. Snape gazed at his kingdom over his beak like nose, the tall and lean watchmen of the school. His cloak like a waterfall of ink cascaded down on his body and pooled around him, just a puddle of sheer darkness. Even the moon peaked out from behind the clouds to see this man, but its brightness was not nearly enough to bring light to the dark man, Harry admired.

Eyes strictly on the Grounds, he joined the headmaster on the balcony.

"Thank you," said Harry quietly.

"I was merely doing my job, Potter," Snape reacted coldly, his voice only as loud as the wind around them. "I did not do it to earn your gratitude. Or an Order of Merlin, for that matter."

"You still did. Along with my respect."

Slowly, Snape turned towards him. "Hold on a second, this is you, actually respecting me? I honestly did not notice the difference."

Harry snapped his eyes at the man and was surprised to see a teasing half smile on the corner of the thin lips. He rolled his eyes. "You really haven't notice we're not arguing anymore?" Instead there were these easily misunderstood little implications, which could hint at anything and nothing at the same time. Still, they were certainly better than the snarled fights and actually quite entertaining as well.

"Ah," Snape sighed, "I knew I have been missing something very dear to my heart."

A soft chuckle escaped Harry then he turned his eyes back over the world lying down below them. They remained quiet for a while; it was peaceful – something Harry was not yet used to feeling around Severus Snape.

"A certain Claire Goodman owled me today," a dark voice cut into the silence. "She would like us to be involved in some charity events."

"Oh yes," Harry nodded, "I told her to approach you, hope you don't mind."

"Actually, I do," Snape sniffed, his black eyes turning towards the Forest.

Harry by now knew very well that mix of sadness and shame that Claire's first correspondents usually invoked in people. "The pictures of orphan, homeless kids?"

"Yes," said Snape, after a second of silence. "And the statistics, too. However," he took a deep breath, then turned bodily towards Harry as he went on, "she rather unfairly pointed out that we are one of those organizations who are benefiting from the events, and well... she was quite persuasive."

"She usually is," laughed Harry. "So what's the plan? I'm not selling myself again, am I?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He turned towards Snape as well, leaving one of his elbows on the railing.

"Why, Professor Potter, did the last time go so badly?"

And here it was again, the banter, innuendoes that might not even be innuendoes. Yet the voice that said them was dark and arousing and velvety, like thick melted chocolate. Harry bathed in the sensations that voice gave him.

"No, it was rather fun actually. But who knows who ends up buying me this time? I might be unlucky and end up with someone who wants more than a dinner."

"I was under the impression you did not have a problem with being a courtesan," Snape said softly, moving closer.

Harry didn't take his eyes off the man as he answered, "As long as I serve _my_ king, I don't indeed."

"Your friend, Ettore Serafini is coming," informed him Snape suddenly. His voice turned cold by the mention of the Italian God, he had not yet met.

"Really? You think it's a good idea to bring him to our kids?" Harry smiled, imagining Ettore giving another lecture about how he got the idea for one of his creations.

"_Our_ kids, Potter?" Snape laughed darkly.

"Well, being gay and all, I'm fairly certain this is as close as I get to having kids."

Snape considered him for a moment before he said, "There are many options nowadays. And we need him. There will be a photo shoot. A calendar of the heroes of Hogwarts or single photos up for sale, maybe both – they haven't decided yet. Should come out around Valentine's Day, she said. Ettore provides the style, we provide the heroes."

"Sounds fun," was all Harry could say as Snape was somehow too close all of a sudden.

"I am relieved you find it to be _fun_," The headmaster smiled evilly. "Hopefully I can trust you taking care of Ettore while he resides in our midst then, correct?" He pushed himself away from the railing and Harry suddenly realized he had been trapped. He liked Ettore, liked him a lot, but being around the man resulted with too much offers of the erotic kind and no action what so ever, which infuriated Harry on many levels but mostly on a very basic, very animalistic and very sexual level.

As Snape headed away from him, he asked back with a hint of challenge in his voice, "Well depends, really. What exactly do you mean by taking care of him?"

He heard the sound of rushing footsteps and the next moment Snape was pressed against him from behind, his hands grabbing onto the railing on both Harry's sides. The young man's breathing hitched as he felt hot air ghosting over his skin and silky hair caressing his face. Then the velvety deep voice attacked his senses again, nothing more just a dangerous growl against his ear. "If you as much as touch our guest, I make sure you learn what exactly it means to be the king's courtesan."

Harry tried his best to slow his breathing but it still came out in short gasps. "I'm more afraid of _him_ touching me. If you recall, he's the more dominant between the two of us."

Snape moved even closer, grounding the young man into the railing. "Potter, let me tell you, he is not the only one with a domineering personality in this school. This is after all, _my_ school and you are _my_ professor, and I will make him understands that as well."

"Well," Harry breathed as his hardening cock was all but squashed against an iron hippogriff. "That's good to know."

And then, as if nothing had happened, Snape was on the other side of the room, probably already at the door. Harry couldn't risk turning around and checking it himself. He couldn't bear the thought that Snape might see just how hard this little chat had made him.

"And, Potter," said the low, seductive voice, "with us having all these children, one might wonder just how many times had I been inside you."

Gaping, Harry turned around, momentarily forgetting about his situation. Snape had a hand on the handle already and he was half way out. He blessed the darkness between them.

He narrowed his eyes and tried to see the exact expression on the headmaster's face, but darkness wasn't just a blessing, it was a curse as well. "One might have a fairly hard time then, might he not?"

"One certainly does."

***.***

It took Ettore about half an hour to charm everyone after he had arrived on a rainy Friday afternoon during the first week into February.

They planned the photo shoot for Saturday, which was a Hogsmeade day, and so fewer students would be around anyway. Snape thought it was enough that their routine was disrupted by having a guest, they didn't need the children lurking around the Great Hall as the man dressed the professors in whoever knows what.

Upon arriving, the designer's first steps led to the headmaster's office where Harry had been waiting for him to 'take care of him'. Minerva was present as well, sitting on Snape's right as usual. Harry suspected Snape planned a formal introduction, something to perhaps intimidate the Italian, so that he would realize whose kingdom had he stepped into. But of course, Ettore Serafini wasn't someone who gave even a chance to be intimated. Ettore was the kind of person who rather liked doing the intimidating himself.

He opened the door to Claire and let her step inside the round office first. As Claire introduced herself to Minerva and greeted Snape with a soft smile, Ettore turned to Harry.

"Bello, my heart flutters as I lay eyes on your beauty again," said the lush lips and blue eyes twinkled dangerously. Harry was once again blown by the utter gorgeousness of the man, his voice and naturally, his _accent_. The Italian smiled and licked his lips. "What a pleasure to see you again," Ettore said with an affectionate smile and the next moment fingers, soft as silk, grabbed Harry's neck and he was pulled into a kiss.

Ettore tasted sweet and fruity. Cherry and vanilla and maybe a hint of strawberry. His lips were soft, it reminded Harry of the few kisses he had shared with Ginny in his sixth year. There was no tongue involved at first but the kiss was still more than enough to make Harry feel aroused. Then just before Ettore pulled away, wet tongue traced his lower lip and Harry needed all his resolution not to moan.

The next moment the Italian was in front of Minerva. She received a kiss on the hand she had held out and the lines on her face soften slightly as the deep blue eyes looked up at her while full lips touched the back of her hand. Ettore turned around the wrinkly hand in his and kissed into the middle of Minerva's palm, whispering words no one could hear except her. Not that Harry paid any attention to that scene, he was preoccupied with someone else in the room.

As Ettore stepped away from him, Harry's eyes found the headmaster right away. Snape was furious. He was leaning onto his desk with both palms, eyes burning. He could almost see the black aura around the professor as he stared at Harry, his expression suddenly unguarded and revealing more than Harry had ever seen.

'What passion', Harry thought to himself, before Claire's pretty face swam into his vision, soft smile, lips moving, saying something that was utterly lost on Harry.

He shook himself and hugged the woman while Ettore turned to the headmaster. Harry let go swiftly and stepped next to the Italian, though Snape meanwhile managed to take back control.

Serafini looked over the dark man in front of him like one generally looks at meat on the market. The ocean blue eyes were filled with desire as he stretched a hand.

"And you must be, _Professore_ Severus Snape," he said slowly in a low tone, almost in awe. He hissed the 's' sounds like a snake, his accent suddenly heavier. "What a pleasure to finally meet you. Ettore Serafini, Signore, at your service. Whatever you need, I can give it to you."

"I highly doubt, Mr Serafini." Snape answered with a smile that rather resembled a sneer.

"You would be surprised," came the teasing reply. "And we are among friends, are we not? Please call me Ettore."

Friends? Harry was surprised Ettore was still alive, given the headmaster's previous fury.

Snape motioned towards the empty chairs, "Shall we?" He waited until his guest seated themselves then he too sat down with Minerva on his right and Harry on his left. "So Claire, what is your proposal?"

"We decided to do both. Calendar and the single photos as well. We want something cheeky, something elegant and something playful. That's what Ettore is here to provide. Who are the participants?"

"Filius Flitwick, Sybill Trelawney, Rolanda Hooch, Bathsheda Babbling, Horace Slughorn, Aurora Sinistra, Pomona Sprout, Rubeus Hagrid, Firenze, Minerva McGonagall, Draco Malfoy, and Harry Potter," Snape listed the names. Harry noticed with certain disappointment that the headmaster wasn't on the list.

"I will need to see these wonderful people personally before the shooting so I can choose their outfits properly, Severus." Ettore said calmly and Harry frowned when he used the headmaster's first name. The first name he wasn't allowed to use. The first name Harry groaned in the middle of the night, when he was alone with a hand around his cock and fingers up his arse.

"Can be arranged," Snape nodded. "I will call a staff meeting for tonight," he motioned to Minerva, who stood and strolled out of the office with long steps and without a single word. Harry marvelled the efficiency between two of his colleges. They had been working together for so many years that they didn't need words to understand each other. Which was probably what made this school so efficient.

Ettore looked after her with admiration. "I know exactly what she will wear. It will be _magnifico_."

"Professor Snape, I was thinking, would it be a problem if Miss Granger joined us tomorrow," Claire inquired. "She's a great help with organizing, and her insights would be valuable considering the printing or the theme. And these professors, as I know, had taught her in the past, right?"

"Hermione's coming?" Harry smiled, looking expectantly at Snape, who rolled his eyes but nodded.

"She might as well join us. So you plan the release date on Valentine's Day, correct?"

"Oh yes," Claire smiled. "Ettore has, once again, something special planned for Mr Potter, and we believe, there are some lonely witches and wizard who would be happy to buy that calendar."

"Something special?" Asked Harry and Snape at the same time both looking at Ettore.

"Oh indeed, _mio_ _bello_. Your naked body will provide entertainment for many men on Valentine's Day."

"My- _what_?" Harry groaned, blushing madly. Hot, tickling sensation spread in his chest spilling lower and lower. It felt like he had just dumped a cup of warm coffee on his lap. It certainly didn't help that Snape was sitting next to him, rather tensed all of a sudden.

Snape pointed a finger on Claire as he sneered, "I did not agree to anything in the erotic nature. This is a respected school, Claire, you simply cannot go around and publish naked photos of _my_ professor, no matter how well it would sell. At least not as long as he works for me and I intend to keep Potter around."

"Severus," Ettore started calmingly. "Have you seen Harry in any of my creations?"

"As it happens, yes." Snape answered after a second of hesitation.

"Which one? Was it Stephen?"

"No," Snape said, shifting in his chair. Harry, too, felt suddenly uncomfortable remembering their dinner date/business dinner. "_Antonio_."

The blue eyes snapped at Harry who felt his blush return and if possible, deepen even. "You wore _mio Antonio_ on your body, when you met _him_?" His voice was pleasantly surprised, lush lips turning upside for an arousing smile. He looked at Snape contemplating him for a while who seemed taken aback by the intense attention. "Well, I did say you should make him come, didn't I?" He sighed softly, as twinkling pools of ocean blue eyes turned back on Harry.

"_What_?" Harry cried again. "I didn't..."

"Severus, _diletto_, tell me, did you like seeing Harry in _mio Antonio_," asked the Italian.

Harry watched the desk resolutely. Even when he noticed from the corner of his eyes that Snape looked at him for a moment, he didn't turn his head towards the headmaster. Not even, when Snape said softly. "It suited him well."

"This is a... what is the word... ah! Understatement. Severus, let me tell you a bit about designing magical clothes." His brilliant smile didn't waver as he leaned on the table, blue eyes persistently remaining on black ones. "Every piece of clothing we wizards and witches design, has the potential to bring the best out of the wearer. Much like with wands that you use to channel your _magia_, a shirt, a vest can help channel your true personality. Antonio's role was to seduce and on Harry, he would do it perfectly. Believe me Severus, I do not do this to make everyone see Harry the way I have seen him," Ettore turned towards Harry, who was suddenly forced to remember the way strong hands pushed him against the wall, soft, long fingers traced his waist. "That is secret I would prefer to keep. Close to my heart. Or other parts, really."

Harry let out a soft groan, trying to signal Ettore that he wasn't helping his own case, but the Italian was watching Snape again.

"He would not be completely naked of course. We need to earn that right, don't we, Severus? The sight of him uncovered, fully revealed, laid out in front of us. What I want is to show the potential in him. I will make every straight woman and gay man long after Harry. His look will be a promise. A promise for playful pleasure that wizards and witches will want to take and keep."

Harry's mouth was slightly hanging open. He didn't want that, did he? For people to long for him? The fact that Ettore was constantly bombarding him with unveiled offers was bothersome enough. It was harder and harder to say no to the Italian God, with his perfect hair and gorgeous eyes and lips that begged to be kisses and would look remarkable around his cock.

No he most definitely didn't want all the British wizards and witches admiring him. But. There was one wizard he would make a promise for playful pleasure. Or any pleasure in fact.

"I'm in," Harry smiled at Ettore not bothered by the angry frown Snape gave him instantly. "It's all for charity after all, isn't it? C'mon, Professor Snape, Ettore did great the last time he had to choose my outfit. I trust him to give me something that would help to raise a lot of galleons again," Harry smiled.

"We will see tomorrow," said Snape strictly, eyes on the Italian. "This _is_ a school and he _is_ a professor here. If I find the outfit too decadent, you will find another one."

Ettore smirked as he said. "You will find it decadent, Severus. And you will love it. As you will love the rest I will show you."

Snape stood up and so did the others. The meeting was over. Claire was at the door, plotting expression on her pretty face, her lips curving. Ettore was still smiling warmly at Severus.

"Do not forget, Ettore, that you still need to convince me that I want this," said Snape.

The Italian tilted his head and watched the dark Headmaster wordlessly for a moment. "Oh I will convince you, Severus. I will make you want it. I will make you... _crave_ it, as bad as I do."

Harry realized the offer probably sooner than Snape because he expected it. He knew Ettore wouldn't be able to talk to Severus Snape and not see the enticing darkness in the man. The dangerous potential. The dominance. This wasn't about him or the outfit anymore. This was about Ettore and Snape. As he walked to Claire at the door, waiting for the Italian to come too, he saw as Serafini held out a hand over the table.

His thought was confirmed when Snape accepted the hand and Ettore spoke up again.

"There comes a moment in our life, Severus, when we want something, but to get it we must bow our head. If you had seen _mio Antonio_, you know his story. And if you know his story, you know I do not bend my head," Ettore turned their joined hands and Harry was astonished that Snape didn't pull it away as the Italian slowly raised it to his mouth. "Severus, I like you. You are something else, something... very _intrigante_. I do not let anyone else control me and my design choices. But I will bow my head this time. In fact," lush, no doubt wet lips descended on Snape's hand and Harry could notice the rush of desire in Snape because he reacted to Ettore the same way. "I will bend my whole body for you."

Ettore grazed the fingers with his lips before he let go, Harry would even swear he had seen a tip of tongue dart out to give a small lick to the very top of that long middle finger. He turned around, his silk robes flying after him like wings. "If you do not like what I give to Harry, if you _truly_ not approve, then I let you decide. But if you do, I get to choose something for you as well and the calendar will be _dodici pi__ú__ uno_."

"What's that?" Harry asked Claire.

"Twelve plus one," she answered grinning.

***.***

Severus had to admit, Ettore Serafini _was_ something else. The Italian was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen and definitely the most beautiful who had offered himself to Severus. Even though Ettore was very confident about flirting with basically anyone who moved, he showed a remarkable interest in Severus during their "_get-to-know-my-subjects_" meeting that evening. The attention left Severus bothered regardless his best efforts.

He was barely able to control himself, his promise to Potter about showing who was in charge was long forgotten, as the designer's interest wondered from professor to professor, but always returned to Severus. Even if cock-sure people generally assaulted Severus' nerves, Serafini... was something else. His self-assurance was not artificial, the man knew what he wanted and also knew how to get it, what to say, how to approach someone. And that confidence was rather alluring to Severus. A man who liked to be in control, who was powerful and yet willing to submit to Severus' will, was rather enticing by start, being beautiful _and_ witty did not help Severus to shake off the attraction.

It was fascinating to watch the Italian charm his Charms professor, make Minerva giggle like a school girl and have the usually stoic Rolanda blush with by the aimed compliments. He HE even befriended Hagrid with tales of the exotic creatures he encountered in his home country. Whatever he had told his subject, everyone left the impromptu party smiling warmly at Serafini and thanking him for what, Severus could not fathom. There was no sign of irritated eye rolling, or shared glances that said "Moron." Ettore was as welcomed in their midst as Harry Potter.

The only thing that kept Severus in control of his emotions and body were Potter's dark glances from across the room. Potter seemed restless all evening, though Severus was only glad to see that Ettore had left alone his Defence against the Dark Arts professor. Even though they didn't speak, Severus did not miss the looks they gave each other. Potter's friendly, encouraging smiles were nothing compared to the hunger in the Italian's ocean blue orbs. In these moments, he wanted to drag Potter out and remind him what it meant to serve a king. And then, he was forced to remember he was the one who had asked Potter to make sure the Italian was welcomed. For which he damned himself during the whole evening.

Ettore said goodbye to Pomona with a soft kiss on her plump cheeks and the witch exited the staff room with a warm smile on her lips, leaving only four of them in there. Potter was manually collecting some dirty plates, Draco was quietly sipping his scotch, just like he did all evening, while Severus was leaning against one of the walls, observing the scene that was about to enfold.

Ettore stepped behind Potter and slid a hand around his waist. "_Bello_, you seem tense..." said the Italian softly, pulling Potter to his chest as if he would be his cuddle-bear.

Severus' blood was boiling. Potter looked over his shoulder but it was not Ettore his gaze was searching for. He looked into Severus' eyes as he answered, "I'm just tired."

"Sit now then," Ettore smiled, taking Harry's hand in his and tugging the young professor towards one of the chairs. He pulled out a wand, long and slim, olive wood by the look of it. He flicked the wand and the dirty plates and glasses vanished, while the room organised itself.

Potter sat, but Ettore stayed behind him, hands on his shoulders, gently caressing him at first. Green eyes closed involuntarily in pleasure, as the stroking turned into firm rubbing. Draco shifted in his seat, downing the amber liquid from his glass.

Potter seemed to relax but his tension crept into Severus' muscles instead. He moved, crossed the room with only a few long strides and settled in one of the armchairs right in front of Potter. The carpeted floor swallowed the noise; Potter could not hear him, which explained the surprise in the emerald eyes, when they fluttered opened.

"Thank you, Ettore," smiled the DADA professor.

Grinning smugly, Ettore drew his hands down over Harry's chest and leaned to his ear. "Anytime, _mio bello_. You know I would love to help with any stiffness you might feel."

Draco snorted and sank deeper in his armchair, throwing a leg over the arm, drinking from his glass that was magically refilled once again.

Severus looked away from Potter, hating that little blush that coloured the young man's cheeks.

"Ah, you English people..." Ettore sighed, plopping down in one of the chairs too. A glass half full of red wine zoomed into his open hand. He took a sip, savouring the taste for a second before swallowing. "How are you so unyielding all the time? The world lies before your feet and you only look away."

When none of them responded, Ettore shook his head and switched to different topic. "Your colleagues, Severus, are all remarkable people. It will be an honour to dress them tomorrow."

"Indeed," reacted Severus, not able to disregard the direct accosting.

"Ah, _Mio Dio_, Severus, I beg of you, tell me, what have I done to deserve such coldness all of a sudden?"

"You did not do anything, Ettore," Severus said softly recalling his good manners. "I must be tired, as well."

"Why do we not retire then, _mio diletto_?"Asked Ettore with a sudden gleam in his blue eyes, standing up. Three pair of eyes went wide. "Come now, Severus, let me make you relaxed."

"Ah, I think..."

"No, no, no, Severus, do not think." Ettore smirked circling Severus. "Just feel," he said, stroking Severus' arm with soft fingers.

Damn, he was good, the headmaster thought. He kept his eyes strictly on Potter, whose gaze was now cold as ice. Whatever the young man was thinking of, couldn't have been pretty.

"Look at this, Harry," Ettore whispered now, but the silence was so deep, everyone heard him perfectly. He lifted Severus' jaw, his fingertips sliding on the long neck, "Is it not beautiful? Who would not want to play with this?" He caressed Severus chest but as if sensing that Severus was about to jerk away he moved aside, looking hungrily down at Snape. "Who would not want him?"

"I don't," said Draco easily, his gray eyes only narrow slits as he watched Serafini.

"Your name... _Drago_... is it?"

"Dra_c_o Malfoy," corrected the blond, holding up a hand. "A pleasure."

"You are different from them," Ettore said taking the hand. He ran his thumb over the knuckles. "You are no professor. You miss their... rigidity."

"I've been teaching for seven years now. I am more a professor than Potter." Draco did not seem offended that his hand was held captive. If anything, he seemed smug that the attention was finally on him.

"Oh, Signor Potter is no _professore_. Nor are you. Not yet. You are too young. Experience and knowledge, the Italians say those are what a _professore_ needs to pass on. You are so young... how could you have both?"

Draco tugged back his hand. He was offended, Severus recognised.

"You Italians didn't fight a war seven years ago."

"And you did?" inquired Ettore. His tone was still respectful, not cutting, though his questions were to rile Draco, for some reason.

"Right at the front," remarked Malfoy quietly.

"Yet, you have been punished," came the answer from the Italian.

Grey eyes widened. "If you know who I am, why are you asking these stupid questions?" Draco sneered.

"Questions are not stupid, _Drago_. Only answers may show you unintelligence." Serafini smiled. "And I do not know you. I am learning you now. I am reading you. Do you want to know what I have learned so far?"

"Humour me," said his godson evenly, seemingly uninterested.

The Italian made another round around Draco. Blue eyes shifted eagerly on the lean, pale figure, drinking in his white blond hair, sharp feature, grey eyes, and then Serafini moved back to his chair and sat down. His gaze was intense on Draco as he talked. "You were born into riches. You have known a comfortable life as a child and that is what you aim towards now. You dress carelessly, yet you have _eleganza_ and _stile_. That is my Selim on you, I recognise him. You said you fought in the war and you hide your left arm. You are branded, same as our Severus here. You fought on the wrong side. _His_ side. You crave power. But power does not suit you. Unlike Severus, you do not know what to do with it. To rule is to fight constantly. No, you enjoy a comfortable life. You like being taken care of. Oh sweet, sweet Draco, that is _magnifico_," Ettore's smile turned wicked for only a moment, while Draco just frowned. "So much have been taken from you, you do not dare reach out and take anymore. You stay here in comfort and teach and dream. You dream of flying. _He_ tamed the _drago_, did he not?"

"I'm _not_ tamed," snarled Draco. The carelessness was gone from his posture. He was sitting rigidly, while Serafini became more and more comfortable.

Ettore just laughed as if that had been the reaction he was hoping for, "Oh no, you are indeed not. Then why, I wonder, you stay here, hidden in a castle? The _drago_ should fly. Why do you not fly? What keeps you chained in the castle?"

Severus must have missed something because he was observing Ettore, who seemed to have realized something all of a sudden. "Is it family perhaps? Not your father surely, he must despise your current work. Once you served power and now you represent the voice of the powerless. Motherly love is beautiful, but not something that would keep a _drago_ from flying. No, no, no. You already serve someone. Loyally. Someone here. Someone powerful and... Oh... oh..."

Suddenly, the blue eyes turned onto Severus. "_Mi dispiace_," Ettore said respectfully, bowing his head lightly. "I am sorry. I did not intend to take what is already taken. Have I known..."

"You and Malfoy?" Potter cried in disbelief, evidently following Serafini's thinking, too. "But..."

"No," Severus said quickly, eyes only on Potter. He seemed relieved for a moment then doubt crept back into the corner of the green orbs. "He is my godson. Nothing more."

"So it is family, after all. Not a lover."

"No," Draco laughed. "Merlin, no."

Serafini stood and walked to the blond. He lifted Draco's chin as he asked in a dark tone. "Are you taken, beautiful _Drago_?"

"No," was the answer again.

"Good," Serafini reacted coolly, then let go of Draco's head and resumed his circling around the young man. "A _drago_ who stays in the castle, where he cannot fly. Why is that? Oh, _vedo_! He is not a prisoner, so why would the _drago_ stay in the castle?" He smiled at Potter cryptically, who regarded him for a moment, then the emerald pools were on Severus.

"He protects the king," Potter smirked, "or in this case, the _prince_."

"It all comes down to you, Severus," said the Italian now in front of him. "All three of us, it seems are here for you."

"That is not true, Ettore," Severus reacted feeling uncomfortable. "You are here because of Claire, Potter's only here because he wants to break a curse, and Draco is here, because he was ordered."

"The punishment was for five years," quipped Potter.

"The punishment?" Ettore echoed, confused.

"After the war, I had to teach Muggle Studies for five years to learn humbleness and obedience," Draco explained. "Little did they know, I'm actually pretty good at both already."

"Careful there, _mio Drago_," warned him Ettore, his tone thick with his arousing accent. "I might want to ride you regardless of your alliance."

Draco considered him for a moment, then shrugged barely visibly. "It's been a while since I've been taken out for a ride..."

"Hey, before anyone goes out riding," Potter chipped in again, "I still don't get something." He waved a hand towards Severus before he said, "I've known him long enough to know, Snape's not the kind of person, who needs protection from anyone."

"Except himself," Answered Draco. Severus glared at him, but the blond just shrugged. "Severus wants to take all the problems of the world on his shoulders. Someone needs to lift that weight off before it crushes him."

"And you have been doing that, have you?" Severus sneered.

"Didn't I grant your New Year's wish, Severus?" Draco snapped back.

"You could have just taken the position yourself two years ago, if you wanted to protect me so much, Draco. You never wanted to leave your current post."

Draco huffed, but Potter spoke first, "The DADA post is _cursed_," there was suddenly a hint of respect in his voice as he spoke to Severus though he was looking at Draco. "If he takes it, he's fired the next year, or worse, as we know. Not much of a help that is."

"Oh now, do not tell me-"

"I did stay partly because of you," Draco cut in. "_Partly_. I might be a dragon ready to fly but I'm also a snake. Your snake, Severus," his godson smirked. "I recognise it when something might be to my advantage and this school has been so far. Protection, comfort and influence. What else would a Malfoy want?"

"Not just beautiful, cunning too," Ettore said, licking his lush lips. "_Drago_, I want you more and more."

Draco was smirking as he stood and walked closer to Ettore. "Look at them, Ettore. You say, I'm the chained dragon, yet I'm the only one here getting exactly what I want."

"Someone who truly understands submission knows that to submit is not a weakness. It is the greatest strength. Will you show me your strength, _mio_ _Drago_?" Ettore laid his hands on Draco's hips, pulling the young man close to him. His blue eyes were on fire, his whole body burned with desire.

"Strength, body... anything you want." Draco groaned but before he could crash his lips to Ettore's Potter spoke.

"And that's my cue to leave," the Defence professor laughed awkwardly. Severus stood too, but before they could leave the room, Ettore grabbed Potter's arm.

"Stay here, Harry."


	4. Left

_I'm sorry! This probably contains stuff you are... well... not curious about. But don't worry. It's just... this time the road's going to be a bit more bumpier... :)_  
><em>Oh and there's a small surprise at the bottom. For all the stress and... stuff.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Left to the Confused Witch in the Great Hall_

***.***

"What?!" Harry asked at the exact same time as Snape grunted it next to him.

"Both of you. Sit and stay." Came the order.

_Holy shit_, Harry thought inside. This was not happening. "I... no... I can't..."

"Yes, you can and yes, you will."

"I really don't want to see what you're doing to Malfoy."

"Do not see Draco then. See me, only me, _mio bello_." The blue eyes were almost hypnotising and Harry felt suddenly weak. What harm was in watching, right?

He didn't just think that, did he? "No, Ettore... I..."

"You are stepping out of line, Ettore," Snape snarled coldly.

"You're welcome to stay as well," Smirked the Italian. "I do not ask more of you just to watch. To see, what I have to offer to both of you. What I do to Draco, is what I crave to do to Harry as well. And what I desire of you to make me do, Severus."

"How can you be okay with this?" Harry asked from Draco who was already stripping.

The blond snorted. "You have no idea how it feels, do you, Potter? You're too... _innocent_." He said the last word as if it would be an insult.

"I'm not innocent," Harry objected vehemently.

"You are in this, _bello_," Ettore laughed. "Which is why I want to show you. It is frightening at first, I know that, but the pleasure is so much more, you might reconsider. I want to be your first. I want to be the one to take your innocence. You will not regret it, I promise. Sit now, Harry." He commanded softly.

Harry's body obeyed with his mind not having as much as a word in it. He staggered back blindly and when the back of his legs bumped against the chair, he sat down.

He wasn't staying, was he? He wasn't even considering it, right? He couldn't, it wasn't proper. But who would know? Surely neither Ettore nor Malfoy would go around telling this to newspapers or anyone. Snape then? No way, he would never risk his Defence teacher, or the school's reputation. It was late enough, way past midnight, students wouldn't come. Did he really want to say yes?

Merlin, he did. He didn't even need to look down on his lap to know that. Just the thought that he was asked to observe two other people being intimate was arousing enough, the fact that one of them was Ettore Serafini, was just a bonus.

Malfoy got undressed meanwhile. He was completely naked, though Harry didn't look directly at him. He wondered only for a second if the other young professor wanted this truly, but then as Malfoy slowly turned, Harry could see from the corner of his eyes that the evidence of his willingness was already hard between his legs.

This was the most depraved thing Harry had ever considered to do. He wanted to look at Snape, to know what he was thinking. The Headmaster was still standing as if waiting for him, but Harry couldn't bear himself to look at him, or stand too and walk out. He was curious, way too curious and if his childhood at this school had showed anything, it was that he could never resist his curiosity. He gulped heavily, took a deep breath, and leaned back. He was smirking confidently by the time he looked back at Ettore.

Snape moved that moment as if someone had pushed him forwards. He stepped towards the door but Harry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down onto the chair next to him. "Yeah, don't you even think about leaving. I'm not doing this alone."

"Yes, you will, because I am not staying," Snape snarled wildly, attempting to get up, but Harry pressed him back down once again.

"Yes, you will," Harry said determined, his eyes hard on Snape. "You will, because Ettore asked you nicely, because he is your guest and because, you seem to forget what you promised me." Merlin, Snape was furious, but Harry wouldn't leave it at that. "This is after all, _your_ school and I am _your_ professor... am I not?" Snape's previous words coming from Harry's mouth finally did it, it seemed. Snape huffed once more, something dark gleaming in his black eyes but then he looked away.

Snape watched Ettore sternly for a second, and then his gaze turned to Malfoy who stood silently, with his fingers folded on his nape, staring into nothingness in front of himself. "Do it. But do not get your hopes up, Ettore. I have spent years in the company of men who preferred to treat their lovers as you do. I heard the story of your _Antonio_. None of that did the trick. I doubt there is something you can show me that I have not seen before. Unlike Potter, I am no innocent."

"Severus, _diletto_," said the Italian quietly, leaning on the armrests on Snape's chair with both his hands. The headmaster had to tilt back his head slightly to keep the eye contact. "Those were tales of dominance, of course they did not do the trick. What I offer you now, is a tale of _submission_." Before Snape could even resist, though Harry suspected he hardly wanted to, Ettore kissed him softly.

Harry remembered how good those lips felt on his and for a moment, he hated Ettore. Then he realized it was Snape he should be jealous of. "I thought you were using Draco to show me your ways." Harry muttered looking away from the kiss, trying to swallow back the weird, icy sensation in his belly.

Snape pulled away and glared at the Italian who was so hard to resist. Ettore just smiled at both of them and turned to Draco. "_Sfarzoso_," he muttered, caressing Malfoy's bare body. "True submission does not require chains or whips, Severus. You do not need to make me bleed to show that you own me. You can show it with every touch." Draco moaned when Ettore licked his nipple, his fingers drawing invisibly on his skin. "With every lick. With every kiss. What you have seen, I believe, was about power. What I am about to show you, is about... pleasure."

He kneeled in front of Malfoy, his mouth only inches from the blonde's cock. This time, Harry couldn't _not_ look. Malfoy was stone hard already, leaking, yet nothing else showed his arousal. He was panting slightly, but was otherwise motionless and in full control of his body. Harry knew he would want to reach out and grab into that waving brown hair, bury his fingers into those curls and drew that lush, scarred lips closer.

"I told you, to submit is to show strength. Harry, do you think Draco is weak?"

Harry thought that, yes, he was, but he didn't want to say it. He just shrugged. Malfoy's lips almost pulled into the smirk, but he quickly regained his control and forced himself to only stare ahead.

"You think it is easy to give up power?" All the previous kindness and playfulness was gone from Ettore's voice. It was dark and dangerous, just a growl and Harry knew this was the person now who would whip a man until he bled. "You cannot even give it up, when you are forced, is that not true? You are immune to the Imperio, are you not?"

"Yeah," Harry answered.

"You think it is easy to trust someone with your whole body. To be powerless to stop them were they to use your trust against you?" He touched his wand to Draco's leg as he whispered, "Petrificus Totalus."

Barely visible shimmering light ran over Malfoy's body from head to toe. Harry hated this spell, he hated it more than anything. The sensation of being trapped in his own body, unable to move even one muscle, to do anything at all and yet be conscious was terrifying.

"Do you think Draco is weak?" Ettore asked again, ocean blue eyes on Harry, lush lips on Malfoy's cock.

Harry shook his head and was surprised to realize, Snape wasn't watching the display but him. A sudden rush of pure arousal burned though his body as his eyes connected with the ink black orbs. Depthless darkness watched him keenly, the stern face expressionless, yet something dark lurked there too.

"You do not like hurting people, Severus," Ettore said then, and Snape turned to the Italian when he heard his name. "How about pleasure? Do you like causing pleasure? Do you like it when someone lies in front of you, exposed and awaiting your lips to explore his body?"

The small nod was the only sign that Snape had heard the question. Satisfied, Ettore went on. "Would you not like to cause pleasure to the other's body? Would you not like to make him scream? To be the only person, to do this to him?" He pushed a wet finger inside Malfoy but Harry suspected it wasn't the blond the conversation was about. Was it Ettore? Was it someone else? Harry didn't know but Snape did, because he nodded again, just a tiny jerk of his head. "You have to take care of him, Severus. He trusts you to give him what he wants. Anything and everything. His pleasure is your pleasure. And you make sure he enjoys every second of it and that it last long. Do you not, Severus?"

Another nod but this time it seemed almost forced. And Harry realized Snape was trying hard to control himself. What he would do if that control were lost, Harry was eager to find out. His eyes roamed between Ettore, handsome face, lush lips closed tightly around a long, thick erection, cheeks hollow from sucking hard, eyes bright and gleaming blue and Snape, face hidden behind raven hair, emotions locked tightly away, black eyes, endless and dark, not just in colour but in intensity as well. Snape looked at him. Harry almost moved, almost grabbed him, and claimed him, made him _his_. Ettore was forgotten once again, just like when he had been telling Antonio's tale. Damn, it was only Snape. Always Snape. He was doomed, Harry knew; this would not end well.

He only realized the spell had been lifted from Malfoy when he heard the rapid breathing and the deep moans.

"What is a good king, Severus, if not a servant of his people?" Ettore asked, stroking the blond with his hand. "Dominance is not about the whips. It is about the other one's needs. If it is pain, you are to give pain. If it is only pleasure, you are to give solely pleasure. Is that so bad, Severus? Would it be so bad to give me pleasure? I would not be ungrateful."

Snape didn't nod this time. He just stared silently at the Italian. Did he not want Ettore, Harry wondered. Impossible.

"Leave us now," commanded Ettore. Not even a hint of the previous playfulness was in his tone again, he was pure dominance as he stood. "What sweet, sweet _Drago_ is about to receive, will not be to your liking. Show me the way to your quarters, Draco." The blond stepped to the fire and threw a fistful of Floo Powder into the flames that turned instantly green. He walked into the jade blaze naked, carrying his clothes. Ettore followed him, but looked back at them one last time before he would vanish too.

With that, Harry and Severus stood too and left the staff room as well; Harry all but ran away. Another pair of footsteps echoed behind him, they moved in the same rhythm as his. When they reached the corridor where he would need to turn left, while Snape would go up the staircase, he hesitated for only a moment. Then he looked back.

Obsidian gaze bore into him and scourged even the depth of his soul. If he would ever submit to someone, it would be to those endless black eyes and not anyone else.

He turned around and walked back to his room. This needed to stop. He couldn't think like this. Not about Snape. He was Harry's employer for Merlin's sake.

***.***

The next day came ruthlessly bright. The sky was clear and blue like Ettore's eyes, but that wasn't the only thing that cleared during the night. Harry's mind seemed to have calmed down and regarded the last evening as only a hazy dream caused by one too many glasses of scotch. He still wasn't exactly sure what this thing was between him and Snape if there was even a thing and not only his libido was playing games with him, but he knew he needed to come clean with Ettore. The Italian might be a god, but he certainly wasn't Harry's god. Right?

The Great Hall was full with happily chattering children grabbing breakfast before they would head down to Hogsmead. Harry wished for a moment thad he could go with them, but then a certain Italian sauntered into the Hall with Minerva on his arm. Harry looked around, his gaze searching for Malfoy and found the blond head three seats to his left. He was explaining something to Aurora. When he looked up and his gray eyes found the newcomers, only a slight frown indicated he recognized his lover. Then he was back to explaining and Harry's attention returned to his eggs, as well.

Minerva took her seat on Snape's right as always, while Ettore, Harry panicked slightly when he realized, sat down on the only available seat left: on Harry's left.

"Good morning, _mio bello_," greeted him the Italian with a bright smile. "I would kiss you just to taste the coffee off your lips, but I assume Severus would resent me for it."

"What about Draco?" Harry nodded towards the blond head. "Why don't you taste the coffee off _his_ lips?"

"I already did," Ettore smirked. "And I tasted many other things as well, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't..." Harry grunted. "So he's not bothered by this?"

"By what, _bello_? That I want to kiss you? No sane gay man would be bothered by that. They would enjoy the view."

"Not all..." Harry muttered thinking of Snape. "Are you two... together then?"

"No," said Ettore suddenly all too quiet.

"Why? You... seem to fit."

"We were together an hour ago, and I will certainly be inside him once more before the sun goes down. Our encounters were... oh _bello_... _appassionato_. He was gorgeous, _magnifico_. Tied up, writhing, screaming. I am hard just thinking about him. We most definitely fit. But I am returning to Italy tonight."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Harry quipped, not sure what else to say. Then a hand was on the inner side of his thigh, little finger touching his crotch, rubbing his cock through his jeans and he wasn't sure he had ever been able to talk in the first place.

"Are you sorry enough to spend the afternoon with me, Harry?" Ettore asked. His tone sounded casual, but his eyes burnt as he looked to the side.

"No," Harry groaned, his previous strength now shattered. There was something he had wanted to say to Ettore when he had woken up, but what on earth was it? Surely not just _no_, there was something else, there must have been.

The fingers didn't leave him. "Are you sure, Harry? You would like it. I am sure you would."

"No..." Harry groaned quietly. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. "I mean... yes... Merlin..."

Even through the rush of arousal, he felt embarrassed because his body was reacting to the touch, and Ettore was perfectly aware of it. He looked into the blue eyes pleading, aware that his excitement might also be reflected on his features. His gaze caught something over Ettore's shoulder.

Black eyes burned with pure contempt.

Snape pushed himself away from the table and Harry pushed away the hand. "No, Ettore... we... I can't... I'm sorry."

Ettore nodded with a small smile curving his lips. "Do not think for a moment, that I am giving up on you, Harry Potter."

Harry' eyes were on Snape though, following the black figure as he marched out of the Hall, leaving only scared children as he passed. "Shit..." Harry murmured.

** *.***

Hermione arrived around noon, but Harry hadn't seen much of her during the afternoon as she was busy setting everything up, from background to photographers and clothes. Ettore wasn't much around either, he was mostly busy somewhere in the back with last moment corrections on the dresses.

Minerva was the first to be dressed because she was needed elsewhere during the afternoon. Ettore didn't lie when he said she would look magnificent. She indeed did in a dark green, Victorian dress. She posed looking stern and unyielding, like a true Scottish dame. Her eyes were strict and Harry had a distant feeling she would be on the cover of a cold month. Even her last hairbreadth screamed that if you messed with Hogwarts, you would mess with her.

Most of the other, elder professors were dressed similarly, though there were of course some who stood out. Slughorn was sitting in deep purple velvet robes, munching on crystallized pineapple, surrounded by the pictures of his famous students. Flitwick had been the most amusing so far though. Everyone had expected him to wear something serious like the rest of the Head of Houses but he and Ettore thought differently. Filius was wearing a fancy cape alright, deep royal blue in colour and to it matching white boxers with blue stripes, reaching just two inches over his knees; blue suspenders run over his chest, that was covered with wiry white-gray hair. His socks were white too, sparkling almost and reached up to his knees, leaving only that two inches uncovered - teasing the ladies and gents who might purchase the calendar. He stood on books, grinning, his wand in the air, even more books, feathers and a frog flying around him. Some of his Ravenclaws giggled and cheered him on as he appeared in the Great Hall, but that only made him grin brighter.

Harry missed almost half his colleagues as makeup artists collected him and dragged him aside to make him look perfect. After a while, when brushes stopped stroking his face and the cheerful team moved on to their next victim, he was lead to the empty side room behind the main table. It had been a while he had been here, but the place had not changed over the years.

"Meet _Viktor_," said the arousing Italian accent behind him. Harry twirled around. A small red box was held out for him. "I believe you know him. You met him in this very room, in fact."

Harry nodded. "We talked here first... well... sort of."

"He told me about you, you know." Ettore said smiling. "He likes you a lot. _He is a brilliant flyer_, Mr. Krum said. It wasn't your fame, or even your beauty that I first heard about you, _bello_. It was just that you love flying. And I decided then, I want to meet this young man, who would use only a broom to steel an egg from a _drago_." Ettore chuckled and Harry couldn't help but smile too as he thought about the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry shook his head then. "I was mad."

"You were brilliant," Ettore said. "That is why I am interested in you, Harry. Undoubtedly, you are handsome and brave, the Saviour, they call you. But for me, you are the brilliant boy who likes to fly." He took Harry's right hand in his and placed a small kiss on it. "I would like to fly with you," he said then, looking up at Harry. "Think about it."

Before Harry could react, Ettore was out of the door, with one last smile thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Harry placed the box on the small table nearby and opened it. Simple red briefs were revealed, the colour so bright, it seemed radiant. Harry laughed when he saw the white "Firebolt" word sewed into the black hem. Krum was famous for his revealing pictures, where he was covered only by a Firebolt.

"You are willing to walk out there wearing that?"

Harry gasped when he heard the deep voice. He looked up. "Yeah," he shrugged. "People will like it and they will buy the calendar. You know they will. Claire needs the money. Lumos needs the money. We need the money."

"And I need my Defence professor. And not someone who would parade himself in tight shorts."

"I can do both and make money in the process."

"I do not need a whore," sneered Snape.

"I'm not a whore. I'm a courtesan, remember?" Harry smiled as Snape leant against the wall.

"All too well, Potter," sighed the Headmaster. "However, at the moment, I do not see the difference."

Harry took a deep breath. "A courtesan acts only on his king's command."

"So when I tell Ettore to give you something proper, you will not say a word."

Snape wasn't asking, but Harry nodded regardless. "I won't. Then again, your agreement with Ettore said you have to see me in it first and _truly_ not like it. Then you can choose a different one."

Snape huffed, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. "What are you waiting for then?"

Harry waited for a moment for Snape to go out of the room as well, but the headmaster didn't move. "You want to watch, or what?"

"Do not tell me, Potter, that you are shy in front of your own king?"

Harry turned around. He had done this a million times. Quidditch practice, the Burrow, school, training; dressing in front of other men had never been a problem. Though he never had to dress in front of _Snape_.

He took off his shirt and threw it on a chair. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. Snape was awfully quiet behind him. It irritated him. Any remark, even a scathing one would be better than this quiet. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He gave it a little push and it went down. He hooked his thumbs into his shorts but froze for a moment, hesitant.

"Do you require help?" Snape asked and Harry didn't need to look at him to know he was smirking.

He was tempted to answer yes, but instead he just pulled off the briefs and stepped out of them too. He took the red one and pulled it on, knowing exactly, how he must look from behind, bending over, fully naked. Merlin, if he turned out indecent, it wouldn't be because of _Viktor_ but because of the erection he would be sporting inside _him_.

He adjusted himself once the shorts were fully on, then looked down on his body. "It's not that bad."

All of a sudden, he felt the other's presence behind him, there was no need to turn around. He wasn't sure if it was his magic, or his body, but Harry knew, Snape was standing right behind him, all but touching him. His nape prickled, his heartbeat was immediately drumming. He tried to see something while not actually turning his head, but of course, he couldn't.

He heard the rustling of cloth and knew Snape had moved, yet he still wasn't touching Harry. Then like a phantom touch, the skin tickled over his right shoulder. He could feel the weird sensation move down on his body. It was frustrating and enticing at the same moment. Why wouldn't Snape touch him? Harry wanted to step back, he craved the actual contact but then at the same time, he wanted this game to never stop.

The tingling feeling moved to his lower back and even thought it was weightless, it suddenly felt heavier. Snape was maddening as always, but this time, the madness raged in Harry's lower section and not in his brain.

"You want him," whispered Snape so quietly, Harry wasn't sure it was even said.

None the less, he answered him. "Have you seen him? Who doesn't?" They both knew who _he_ was.

Harry grunted sensually when the hands _finally_ descended on his waist. The long fingers were cold on his skin, yet still burning like ice.

"He's not for you," Snape stated darkly.

"Not even for you," Harry replied, stepping back.

Snape pressed up against him in response, his robes almost coarse against Harry's sensitive skin.

"You wouldn't enjoy him." The fingers all but cut into his waist, they held him so firmly. Snape was angry. But this time, not with Harry. "He would enchain you."

_I would like to fly with you._ The words echoed in Harry's mind that was thick with arousal. "He would not. He wants to fly."

The fingers dashed into him; it was almost painful. "That is not what you want." It was a statement, not a question. Snape moved even closer, though Harry would have sworn that was impossible. He felt every inch of the man pressed to him.

"No," Harry whispered honestly, "not anymore."

The fingers moved from his waist, up on his abdomen, dancing on his muscles, sliding over his nipples. Harry moaned.

"You want something else," came the next statement from behind him. The hands on his body rubbed his chest, caressed his belly, run over his whole front pressing down firmly, pulling Harry even more to the man behind him.

"Yes."

Snape bit onto the curve of his neck and Harry threw back his head with a low groan. Two fingers pinched his nipples, while Snape's right hand inched lower and lower. "What do you want?"

Harry just grunted, his body writhing, hips bucking forward, rubbing his cock to the fine silk. He grasped Snape's right hand with his own and tried to move it down to show what he wanted even if he couldn't voice it, but the hand didn't budge from the black edge of the shorts.

"What. Do. You. Want?" Snape repeated demanding, and every word was another roll of his hips, another tweak of Harry's nipples, and another moan from Harry's mouth.

Harry bit his lips, blind with need, hips thrusting back and force as much as the hand let him. "I want to serve my king," he moaned loudly.

"Precisely," groaned Snape, fingertips dipping under the only fabric that covered Harry's erection.

The door opened with a loud bang. "Harry, you need to get out there! You're holding up the who-oh! OH! Oh my!" Hermione covered her face as she turned around to leave. "Terribly sorry. I thought, he was alone."

Snape was there before she could go though. "He is," he pressed out through gritted teeth, and went away, not even looking back.

Harry fell onto a chair and buried his face in his hands. "Hermione, you know I love you, but I hate you right now... just a tiny bit." He looked up and found himself face to face with a scarlet red and confused face.

"What on earth just happened in here?" She asked throwing Harry's shirt onto his lap before sitting down next him.

"I think I just swore loyalty to my king."

"I... don't understand."

"Neither do I..."

***.***

Severus took a deep breath as if that would help him calm down. However, most likely, not even an Avada Kedavra could help him calm his furiously beating heart now. Not to even mention his raging erection.

Potter, that damn fool. Unpredictable as always. Idiot boy. Severus wanted to go back in there and throttle him. Or fuck him. He was not entirely sure. Probably the latter. Definitely the latter. Damn. He ran five fingers through his hair. This was not good. He could not do this, not with his own professor. Damn Potter. Damn his unpredictability. Damn his beautiful body, his firm arse, his lips, his eyes.

Damn Ettore, too.

He knew it, that mad Italian knew perfectly that this would happen. _You would crave it_, was that not what he had said? Well, Severus _craved_ it that was for sure. He walked into a trap. Would he lie, and demand something else for Potter? Or allow other men and women to see his professor like this? To let _Ettore_ see him like this? Who was he trying to fool now? Ettore had seen Potter stark naked already.

Severus closed his eyes, but he still saw Potter in his red briefs; wiry muscles, golden skin, raven hair, oh Merlin, this was not good. He wanted to go back in there and claim him. To finally wrap his hands around that cock and stroke him, make Potter lose control, make him cry breathless, make him come down Severus' throat. Ah yes, he wanted to make Potter come so many times that he would not be able to walk anymore, fuck his arse, pound into him so hard Potter would have to clutch onto Severus to hold on. And he wanted to watch Potter in the midst of this pure ecstasy, knowing he was the one doing this to the damn brat, making him come over and over again.

Merlin, this was what Ettore was talking about, was it not? The king, just a servant of his people, nothing else.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Draco drawled and he looked up, sneering.

Grey eyes widened for a moment when his godson noticed his aroused state and Severus drew his robes around himself tightly, folding his arms on his chest.

"A very _hot_ ghost?" Malfoy asked then the smirk disappeared from his lips. "Was it Ettore?"

Severus shook his head. "Potter," he admitted quietly.

"_WHAT_?" Draco cried. "Potter? Our Potter? Potter, the twat? The idiot? The one you didn't even want to talk to until I bought him for you?"

"Could you lower your voice, Draco?" Severus hissed. "How many other Potters do you know of?"

"_He_ did that to you?" Ask the professor incredulous. "Wait, wait... _you_ let _him_ do that to you?"

"Go away, Draco, before I hex you out of here," Severus frowned.

"Oh no, I won't," Draco laughed. "I'm going to hear this story. And I am going to ridicule you for next ten years. And you're going to sit and endure it, because you know as well that this is the most hilarious thing that could have ever happened."

"I will kill you," Severus muttered but crossed the corridor and stormed into an empty room.

Draco sat down, while Severus just roamed in circles. "Really though? Harry fucking Potter made you hard? In what deranged universe is that even an option?"

"Apparently, in this one..."

"But... what...? How...? Why...? Severus, this is got to be a joke, for Merlin's sake. I mean just your history! The prophecy, his mother was your best friend, you hated his father, you hated _him_, and now you're telling me that... what? That you just really, really wanted to fuck him all this time?"

Severus snapped up his head, a menacing look on his face which Draco evidently took as a yes.

"Unbelievable. I could sooner accept the fact that you're into that dumb half-giant, than Potter." Draco shook his head, seemingly disgusted. "Is it a potion, or something? Did he give something to you?"

"No," he said, then added in his mind, "N_othing beside a hard erection and nice memories for future, no doubt necessary, wanking sessions_."

"Severus, you really have to stop throwing surprising facts at my head. First, you tell me you've been working against the Dark Lord all my life, and now this?"

"It is hardly the same, Draco..."

"Oh indeed, I had an easier time accepting the first. It's _Potter_, for Merlin's sake! We hate Potter! He's maddening, unpredictable, an imbecile, impolite, a brat, a twat, a fucking moron, should I go on or do you finally remember what else you've been saying about him in the last twenty years?"

"He is idiot, no doubt." Severus agreed. "However..."

"However what? A fuckable one at least?"

"Draco," Severus warned him. "You know his true characteristics as well, as I do."

"Yes, I just listed them," Draco snapped. "What else is there?"

"Oh, I do not know, how about bravery? Loyalty? Righteousness? Honesty?"

"Honesty?" Draco roared, laughing. "We're talking about the prick, who lied to you during the six years you have been his professor.

"No, Draco," Severus said sternly, though not raising his voice. "We are talking about the _man,_ who fought to clear my name despite what I have done to him, despite the deeds I have committed. I have a life now because that _prick_, as you refer to him, let me have a second chance!"

Draco was watching him intently, his eyes narrowing, then suddenly, he was smirking. "Good gracious, don't tell me you're in love with him."

"Do not be mad!"

"I'm _mad_? You're the one in love with _Harry Potter_!"

The denial was on the tip of his tongue but something did not let him say it. "Damn it, Draco!" he said instead.

"Good Lord," Draco groaned quietly. "That is impossible. That is just..."

"Mad? Ridiculous? Practically, the biggest joke this life could ever pull on me?" Severus offered sneering.

Draco shrugged. "If you think about it objectively, it kind of makes sense."

Severus finally allowed the hysterical laughter to break out of him. "No. No it does not," he said, continuously shaking his head. "You know what makes sense? You and Ettore. Granger and that idiot Weasley, even I see they were made for each other. Potter and myself...?"

"You are different, yes. But... you know...you kind of fit... I mean... Potter is this hero, bright and shiny, whereas you are..."

"Don't you fucking dare insult me right now," snapped Severus before Draco could finish. "I am already _this_ close to hexing you just because you are here."

"You are... _you_. Can you really imagine Potter with someone equally nice and just _proper_? I can't. He would get bored next to them in a heartbeat. But with you... Boredom will be the last on his mind. And he knows you. I mean... for fucks sake, he'd seen you basically spitting venom at him. If he's still willing to... make you this hard... I don't know... I would consider this."

"Are you actually telling me to seriously consider this whole mad situation?" Severus asked incredulous.

"I'm not telling you to do anything," Draco stated, rising up a hand. "But I have to admit, I've known you all my life and I have never seen you this desperate to fuck someone. And the fact that it is _Potter_ you are so keen to get, it does make me wonder. If it would be any other wizard, I would know it was just your cock taking over, but with Potter... there must be something else there too."

"First time in your life, your reasoning actually makes sense. I hate it," Severus huffed.

"Good. Now as to why I'm actually here. Ettore wants to know if you approve of Potter's outfit," Draco smirked. "I guess it's safe to say you do."

Severus laughed. "Surprising as it may be..."

"Oh, yes, it is so surprising that he already brought your outfit. He says, you have to go to him to collect it, because you will need his assistance."

"His assistance? I can dress myself on my own, thank you very much."

Draco stood and grinned. "Not the way he does, I'm afraid." He walked to door, his hand was already on the knob when he turned back. "A good advice," he said with an almost sad smile, "Ettore is good. It's not exaggeration when he says he knows what you want and he can give it to you. And he wants Potter. He truly wants him. Not for his fame, not as a trophy, he simply wants to see Potter crazed with need, something I imagine you can relate to. He wants to make him feel good. And believe me, if he ever gets his hands on Potter, Potter wouldn't want anyone else. I don't." He slowly lifted his shirt and showed the deep red scars that covered the upper part of his chest. "I didn't say a word all night and yet he gave me _exactly_ want I needed. He sees into your soul, Severus. Fuck him, if that's what it takes to get his attention away from Potter, but don't let him take your little friend. Don't let Ettore break him in. He's like an addiction, Severus. It's never enough of him."

***.***

Ettore was waiting for him in the same room, where he had given Potter the red box.

Severus' attire wasn't boxed; it was draped out on a table for him to see it clearly. As his gaze explored the pieces, he felt a tinge of relief. He wasn't asked to parade in tight boxers. He saw pants and even a coat.

"So, who am I getting into?"

Ettore's gaze was soft on him, almost affectionate. The Italian moved forward and laying a hand on the small of Severus' back, he lead him closer to the table. Only then, did Severus realize, there were no shirts, or shoes, or vests, just the coat and the trousers. Both simple and unadorned, black as the shadows, not silk but something heavier and rougher, like cotton, but when Severus touched the fabric, it seemed rich, and it almost streamed between his fingers.

He knew the answer, before Ettore said, "Yourself."

Severus looked into the blue eyes, so close, so honest, and so arousing. "Are you not a bit too self-confident?"

Ettore smiled softly, kindly. "My _collections_ are, indeed, named after my lovers. But this is not part of my collection. _Severus_ is a gift. It may remain nameless if that is your wish but it is undoubtedly fashioned after you and for you. No other man shall wear _him_."

Severus remained silent. It did not really matter if the outfit had a name or not. Anyone, who looked at it and knew Severus, would recognize it instantly.

"I know, what you think," Ettore said as he shifted behind Severus and took his robe between his fingers. Severus let him remove it, eyes nailed to the clothes he would be wearing in a few minutes, but ears listening to the melodic accent. "That I am only after you because you would make an interesting design among my collections. You think that I only use men, have them and throw them away when I get bored. That is not true, Severus. I am not a bad person." He folded the robe and placed it carefully on the table, then grabbed Severus by the arm and turned him gently around so they would be face to face. As he kept on talking, his soft fingers went from button to button, undoing them. Severus did not stop him. Why, he did not understand.

"I do not use people, if anything, people use me. I am but a servant to them, so eager to please. You know I would be eager to please you as well. Sex is just a tool for pleasure, _mio_ Severus. Do you not want me to cause you pleasure?" The coat was slid off too and folded, then placed on top of the robe. Quick fingers were back on buttons, white ones this time, deep blue eyes never left Severus. "You do not have to be inside me to make me happy. Just let me make _you_ happy. You know I could and that is why you are afraid of me."

"I am not afraid," Severus growled jerking away, but Ettore didn't let him move. The Italian drew a hand around him and grasped into the back of his shirt, his left hand still working on unbuttoning it. Serafini stepped closer and leant to Severus neck, not kissing it, not even touching it. Only his hot, wet breath ghosted on the sensitive skin and Severus knew he let himself be trapped once again.

"You are, and you know you are, _mio diletto_." Ettore whispered into his skin. "I offer you something, something you thought you can easily reject, but now you are tempted. You are curious. There is nothing wrong with that. You should not be afraid. You are allowed to enjoy yourself."

The moment Severus' hand shot out to grasp into that waving brown hair, Ettore stepped back with a soft smirk on his lush lips. Severus fisted his hand, then let it fall next to his side again. His shirt hang on him lose, and fully unbuttoned, revealing a stripe of bare skin. Not nearly enough, judging by the hungry expression on Ettore's face.

"Change now," the Italian directed him. "Call for me when you are done," with that he turned to leave.

"Why are you doing this?" Severus asked suddenly. He didn't understand Ettore. Even if his intensions were clear, he was almost as unpredictable as Potter. "You already had Draco, why is that not enough? Why do you want me and Potter, too?"

Ettore stopped and look back. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he seemed angry. "I am not collecting trophies, if that is what you are insinuating."

He was truly angry, Severus realized, and it made him even more beautiful. He seemed wilder. More uncontrolled than before. "Did I offend you?" Severus asked, amused.

Ettore took two steps towards Severus, clearly fuming now. There was a storm, a hurricane in his ocean blue eyes. "If you still think all I do is fuck people, I misjudged you, Severus Snape." His words cracked like a whip in the silence of the room.

"Oh no," Severus jeered, stepping closer as well. He all but pressed against Ettore as he taunted him. "You create _art_."

He all but saw the thunder in the blue eyes. Hands grabbed into the hem of his shirt. Severus' lips pulled into a smug smile. It pleased him to see Ettore this riled up. The Italian dropped his charms, his sweet smile, his collected demeanour. This was the dominance he was so famous of. The sheep skin was shed and now the wolf stood in front of him, growling, dangerous and even more arousing than the sheep could ever be.

The blue eyes widened then, and the storm cleared. Ettore looked absolutely taken aback for a moment. "I did misjudge you, _diletto_," was all he murmured before he crushed his lips to Severus' and kissed him hungrily. Severus moved too, but not to push him away. No, he pulled the Italian closer and a part of him hated himself for doing it, but the other part... the other part was burning with desire.

Ettore stopped before the kiss would become uncontrolled. He moved away, shaking his head and smiling. He ran his fingers through his thick hair to rearrange it, then pointed an accusing finger on Severus. "I heard your tale, _mio Principe_. I heard about your dark youth, and even darker manhood. I heard about your bravery, of course, who did not, but I heard about the reason for it as well. A long lost love, eternal remorse, revenge. I made an assumption based on that, and, _mio amore_, was I wrong," admitted the Italian. "Dress now, but know this Severus. When I will be back, I will give you one last offer. If you decline, I will stay your friend and you will never be bothered by another offer. If you say yes, I will give you, what now I know you truly want."

"Do not think you know me, Ettore. There was only one person, who truly knew of everything I am, and I killed him."

"That would be arrogant of me, _mio_ Severus," he agreed. "I may not know everything of you yet, but I am always eager to learn."

He made a small bow, then left the room, leaving Severus alone to finally change.

The Headmaster shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it on the pile of his other clothes. He was on a dangerous road, he knew it. But he could not help it.

Draco's words echoed in him like the sound of bodeful bells. His godson was perfectly right; Ettore was more dangerous for Potter than Severus had first assumed. His charm, his aura drew everyone in. Even himself, Severus admitted and he did not even have to look down on his body for evidence of it. The worst of it all was, that Ettore was not lying, when he said, he was not looking for trophies. His anger was true, he was honestly offended by the idea of using people only for sex.

Severus pushed down his trousers and underwear, certain that he was to wear _Severus_ on his skin with nothing between them. The pants he had to put on were simple with two pockets on the sides but none in the back. The material on the outside was still a mystery, but inside silk ran up on his legs, he recognized the sensation. He was barefoot on the cold stone, but the trousers kept him strangely warm. Only when he reached for the coat did he notice the black leather belt. He hooked it in and buckled it, wondering why the belt buckle was silver. Did Ettore know he wore a silver necklace? Or was it just coincidence? Finally, he put on the coat as well. It was heavy in his hand but the moment it was on him, the weight seemed to have disappeared. He didn't even think of buttoning it up. He suspected there was a reason he did not receive a shirt in the first place.

"Ettore!" he called for the man and the door opened right away.

"_Cazzo Madre di Vergilius_!" Ettore groaned lustfully as he came closer with quick steps, and Severus had a faint idea what the swearwords meant, even if it was in a language he did not know. "No, no, no," Ettore said then and gently took hold of the coat and pulled it off Severus, draping it on his shoulders instead. "That is the cloak you wear, not your true self."

Serafini then walked around him, nodding to himself and muttering in Italian. "Your godson has a beautiful body, you know. Yours is so different, but just as enticing," he said suddenly as he stopped in front of Severus, laying five fingers on his slightly hairy chest.

Then he knelt down, his hand sliding downwards, stopping only on Severus' hip. He was eyeing the headmaster's crotch and belly, but without the slightest passion. This moment, Severus knew, he was only a model and not the man Ettore wanted so badly.

When the long fingers grabbed into the black pants and pulled on them, a surprised groan broke out from Severus.

"_Si, si_," Ettore muttered to himself. "_Si, magnifico_."

Severus just raised an eyebrow and watched the Italian drag the pants about three inches under his hipbones, right above the black batch of wiry hair. A few strands were even visible when the mad Italian finally looked up with a teasing grin. "_Perfetto_," he moaned then, his hands still on Severus' bare skin.

The change in Ettore's eyes was clear as if a cloud had just shifted from the sun and now its brightness could finally fully bring out the blue in those pools. Beautiful did not cover the sight in front of Severus. The Italian was gorgeous on his knees, his mouth partly open with a small smile pulling up the corners. The scar on his lips made him look wilder, but the way his tongue ran across the lower lip to wet it, was definitely boyish. Long black eyelashes framed those unnaturally blue eyes and his sharp jaw line was darkened by stubble. He was dressed but if he were kneeling in front of Severus utterly naked, his eyes would still be his most arousing features.

And his smile, Severus added when those lush lips pulled into a playful grin.

"May I?" Ettore asked then.

Severus grasped into the table behind him before he answered, "Yes, you may."

The eyes closed then, and Serafini finally pressed his lips to Severus' naked skin. His mouth caressed the muscles on the headmaster's belly, shifted over his hipbone and sucked in the sensitive skin beneath it. Severus groaned, keeping his hand where it was, though a part of him wanted to bury it in that curling brown hair.

"_Cazzo_, Severus, _ti voglio cos__ì__ tanto_..." Ettore moaned, moving his hands to grasp into Severus' round buttocks and pulling him even closer. Wet tongue squirmed and thrust and licked under the edge of his tight pants and Severus groaned loudly.

Someone answered with a similar groan, but it wasn't Ettore; his mouth was right over Severus' cock by then, licking, wetting the fabric that covered the hard erection. He could see it, _feel_ it; it was glorious.

Severus looked up.

Potter stared at them, _Viktor_ clenched between his fingers. He was not furious, more like disappointed. His green eyes were only on Severus, as his beautiful lips slowly pulling into an angry scowl.

Severus did not look away. He held the gaze, keeping his own features from showing anything. He stayed impassionate even when Ettore reached between his legs. He didn't moan, though the arousal shot through him like an arrow.

There was a question in the deep green eyes, which looked more hurt than ever now. _How could you?_

Severus hated himself for this, but Malfoy, once in his life, was right about something. He would even let Ettore fuck him, if it meant he could make the Italian forget about Potter.

Potter would be trapped if Ettore held him even once. The man was truly good, Draco did not lie, and Potter would not be immune to Ettore's charm. Not like Severus.

Because Potter was not in love.

And Severus was.

Potter smacked the red pants away and turned, marching out.

Severus slacked slightly, the pain in his chest unbearable. Daggers clawed at his heart and not even the beautiful man on his knees could make it go away. Nothing would make this go away just those green eyes looking at him without derision. But that would not happen any time soon, if ever.

He suddenly became aware that the blue eyes were watching him. Ettore leant back and sat on his heels. He seemed... sad. "I do not mind being used, but I take offence if you lie to me, Severus."

"I do not know what you are referring to, Ettore."

"The matters of the heart, _that_ is what I am referring to." Ettore said sitting back, tugging one leg up, stretching the other out. His light grey pants were tight on him, making it hard to hide his erection. Not that he made even an effort to conceal it. "The other man you are thinking of while I have my mouth on you."

"How...?" Severus almost gaped but schooled his features then.

"It is my job to read people, Severus. To recognise desire. That is not desire in your eyes. That is pain. You hate this," Ettore spat angry. "Why then? Why would you say yes then?"

Severus did not know what to say. Honest answer was out of the question. Matters with Potter must remain a secret, buried somewhere deep, never addressed. Maybe then he could close his eyes and let Ettore, or any other men take Potter, but not yet. It hurt too much now.

"I am sorry," was all he said then.

"You deceived me," Ettore stated. "Cunning is admirable, but not when directed at you. You are true to your house and I should have seen it coming," he heaved a sigh then went on, softer now. "It is my fault as well. I was distracted by _that_," he admitted ruefully nodding towards Severus' hard cock.

Severus could not help the smile as he watched the pouting man. Soon it turned into laughing. He stretched a hand to pull Ettore up, which was accepted and a moment later, Ettore stood, patting dust from his pants.

"Unbelievable." He muttered as he leant against the desk too. "First Draco, now you. You Slytherins will be the death of me."

"Draco?" Severus asked surprised. "What did he do?"

"He held my heart for a night, then crushed it like the _drago_ he is." Ettore smiled sadly, but did not say more and Severus did not ask again.

Serafini pushed himself away from the table and looked once more Severus in the eyes. "Do not lie to me again, I ask you. Lies are despicable venom that destroy you slowly. Truth might be hard to take, but it is not venom, it does not kill." He held out a hand then, "Friends?" He asked.

"Friends," Severus agreed taking the hand and shaking it.

Ettore lifted their joined hands to his lips and placed an innocent kiss on Severus' knuckles. "Lies you tell only to yourself are venom too," he said softly. "Stop poisoning yourself."

Severus blinked surprised and the next moment the Italian was at the door. He looked back, his blue eyes roaming on Severus' body. "Oh and, Severus, take care of that erection before you come out," he smirked. "A temptation that size is hard to resist."

Severus laughed, glad that some things would never change.

***.***

Harry still felt cheated more than a week later. He knew, he shouldn't have. He knew now, that this had been only a game between him and Snape. A game, he lost to Ettore, a game, he stopped playing the moment he had seen them together. But, Merlin it hurt.

He didn't talk to Snape nowadays. Every school related matter he mentioned to Minerva, and every personal conversation they might have had ceased since that day. He sometimes noticed Snape watch him from afar, seemingly lost in his thoughts but the moment, he realized that Harry had noticed it, he would look away and stalk somewhere out of sight.

Harry didn't mind. He didn't want to talk to the man anymore. The previous playful innuendos were taunting jeers now, mockery, nothing more.

Yet, life seemed unnaturally bleak without them. Even his lessons were boring; Harry seemed to have lost his drive. Everyone noticed it, even his students. He felt bad about that, but there wasn't anything he could do. Snape had chosen Ettore and Harry could almost forgive that, but to let Ettore suck him only minutes after they had almost... almost...

Harry shook his head and concentrated on his breakfast.

He shouldn't think about _that_. That was a thought off limits. A memory, too nice, too vivid, still after days spent with hatred and disappointment; and yet those memories were still haunting him. Lips on his skin, hands on his body, deep voice whispering in his ear.

He pushed his plate away. He couldn't eat.

An owl landed in front of him. He reached for the envelope she was carrying in her beak, but before he could take it, he heard laugher from one side. It was Malfoy. A similar owl stood in front of him. He was holding three pictures.

Another noise came from his right side; scraping of heavy chair on old stone. Snape stood from the table with a sudden motion, and an owl jumped frightened into the air as the man marched out, black robe billowing behind him. Harry watched him, wondering for a few seconds, then he noticed the small cards Snape was clutching in his hands.

What on Merlin's beard was going on?

The owl in front of him squeaked softly, reminding Harry of her presence.

"Sorry," he said, taking the letter.

He opened the envelope and a letter fell out first.

_Mio Bello_, it started and Harry knew instantly who it came from. He also realized that Valentine's Day was tomorrow, and he also suspected just what Snape and Malfoy had received. He read on.

_I miss you every moment. Your green eyes haunt me in my dreams, from which I wake hungry and insatiable. I wonder day and night how I could see you again, but my work holds me captive in Italy. The sea and mountains I have once loved and filled me with peace now madden me, because so much water and land stand between us._

_What I would do to touch you again..._

_Anything, I keep telling to myself. Which is why I am sending you this invitation. My Aunt __–__ you may remember her from the Charity Gala I have first laid eyes on your beautiful naked body __–__ is organizing a party on St George__'__s Day in April. You must come and visit. I may not manage to be there, however the thought that you will be in the same house, I have spent most of my youth fills me with great pleasure. The event will be a silent auction. Just a dinner, nameless donations and dancing._

_Most of the guests will be old and dry like my Aunt, so take Severus with you. And tell him to be nice, because Hogwarts will be listed as well. Ask Draco, too, for me, though I am certain, he will decline._

_I wish to see you all, my dear friends, but work might keep me here. Enjoy the party as my guests __–__ eat and drink and dance. You all deserve a pleasant evening. _

_Another reason I am writing You, Bello, is that our calendar comes out tomorrow. Oh, it is a sight to behold! Claire forbids me to send you one, she would like to keep that honour to herself, after all, she was the mastermind behind it, but I was allowed the send some of the pictures. In the envelope, you will find three of my favourites. Of course, they are the ones about Draco, Severus and Yourself._

_My copies are, unfortunately, soiled by now. I am sure, upon seeing them, you will understand why. _

_Always yours,_

_Ettore_

_PS: Make sure you visit the Library in my Aunt__'__s house. It is almost as beautiful as you are. One of the dreams about you happened there. I fucked you hard against the bookshelf, and you came on Shakespeare, I clearly remember that. Since then, I cannot read Macbeth without getting hard._

Harry blushed madly as he read the post script, but folded the letters, and sunk it deep in his pockets before anyone could snatch it or peak into it. He shook the envelope and, indeed, three cards fell out. The first two were Draco and him, nothing he hadn't seen before.

But the last one. Blood filled up his cock as he watched the picture. The intense expression, the naked chest, the pants pulled way below the waist line, the pose itself. The thick muscles, the smooth abdomen, the slightly hairy chest.

Oh Merlin, the thick veins beneath Snape's hipbones – he craved to lick them, suck them...

The picture was pure madness; a slap to his broken heart and still...

He fully understood why Ettore's copy was soiled. He even suspected in a couple of days, his own would not look any different either.

* * *

><p><em>And the link to the surprise(this site doesnt allow it any other form): <em>_lizzy0305 (d.o.t) tumblr (d.o.t) com (s.l.a.s.h) post/111870414775/hogwarts-finest (or just go to my tumblr, and click on "Art thingy"._

_Let me know what you think!_


	5. Lead

_Okay, remember when I said at the beginning how this will have five chapters? Surprise, I was wrong. Currently, it should be eight, but (I'm sure you all realized it by now) I cannot promise anything._

_Oh, I made a playlist on 8tracks, mostly for myself, to get me in the mood for writing this story, but if you want to check it out, here you can: 8tracks (d.o.t) com (s.l.a.s.h) captainvulcan/kings-courtesans_

_And Lucky 13th Friday!_

**Snarryfan, you can also see the pics on my Archive of Our Own site. I have the same name there too. That site allows inserting pictures in the text area, so just click on For Charity and scroll down! **Severus is worth checking out ;D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

_Lead to the cross godfather in the Come and Go Room_

"Mate!"

Harry turned towards the familiar voice, he could easily pick out even in the general noise. The Leaky Cauldron was full once again, but Ron managed to nick a seemingly quiet and hidden booth under the staircase. Harry walked towards him, pleasantly smiling at some of the familiar faces and even at those who he did not know. Some strangers waved at him and he responded with a nod, trying to stay under the radar as much as he could, despite his fame. The flaming red hair stood out from the many blacks and browns and some blonds. Manoeuvring between chairs, Harry nailed his gaze on that fiery colour and swept through the crowd.

He noticed the miserable look on his best friend's face even before he got too their table. The two empty glasses were an even more obvious tell-tale that something was wrong. He turned back as he sat down on the bench and held up two fingers to signal his order. Tom nodded when he saw it and pulled out two more glasses from under the counter.

Harry shrugged off his cloak, but left on his scarf as the cold March wind had crept under his warm clothes and was still in his bones. "What happened?" He asked then.

Ron raised his gaze, blue eyes looking like a basset's, beady and with dark circles under it.

"Merlin, did someone die?" Harry asked now more impatient. Ron shook his head but didn't say a word. He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, even though he was staring at Harry. His mouth was forming an upside '_u_'.

"Hermione…" he pressed out, voice faint and shaking.

"Is she alright?" Harry urged the redhead, all but grabbing him by the collar to stir him up a bit. "What did you do?"

Ron dropped his glance onto the dirty table between them and scratched some small, dark mark. Whatever it was, it didn't let go, no matter how vigorously Ron worked on removing it. All of a sudden, he stopped and froze completely, then looked up once again.

"What makes you think, _I_ did something?"

"Because if it were Hermione, you would be complaining not looking as if Voldemort just killed your cat. Speak already, damn it! You're scaring me!"

"Just for the record, if he killed Crookshanks, I would be the happiest person. That cat is a menace," Ron sighed as Tom put down their drinks. He grabbed his Firewhisky and downed the content of the glass in one big gulp.

Harry waited, not so patiently, until Ron finished shuddering and his ears stopped smoking. "Will you finally spit it out?"

"Hermione's pregnant."

The whole bar seemed to have silenced suddenly and Harry thought Ron might have just cast a Muffliato. But then, as he stared at Ron, he realized that no, it was just the shock. The other young man meanwhile, grabbed the second glass and emptied it as well.

"But that's… that's good news," said Harry not quiet convinced. "Right? I mean you two wanted kids, didn't you?"

"Yeah… it's great…" Ron muttered.

"Well, you don't seem happy about it," he pointed out, holding up two fingers again. Tom nodded again and pulled out another two glasses, his smile not so honest anymore.

"I am," Ron breathed, and forced a bit of a smile on his face. "It's just…" He looked Harry in the eyes. He seemed really desperate at that moment.

"Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right? I won't say a word to her," stated Harry, needing that whisky more than ever.

Ron's next words where quiet, barely even a whisper. "I'm so scared, Harry…"

"Why on earth are you scared?" Harry asked, eyes wide open with honest astonishment. "Don't tell me… Everything's alright with you and Hermione, right? She didn't… you know…?"

"What?" Ron frowned for a moment then went red. "Oi, you're talking about my pregnant girlfriend! Of course, she didn't cheat on me!"

"Then why the hell are you scared?"

"It's a baby, Harry!" Cried Ron as if that would explain everything. It didn't.

"Of course, it's a baby," Harry groaned. "But babies aren't scary."

"They are, when they are yours!" Ron replied. "I don't know what to do, Harry! I'm barely a man myself, and now I'm going to be a dad!" As if saying it aloud had made him truly understand the words, his expression softened suddenly. Blue eyes went wide and Harry couldn't help but smile as Ron said quietly, and in awe, "Harry, I'm going to be a dad. A _father_, Harry."

"And that is wonderful news," Harry laughed, as Tom set down another two glasses of amber liquid.

Ron paled suddenly. His freckles seemed to have multiplied in the last ten seconds. "I'm going to be a horrible father! I don't know how to raise a kid!"

Harry finally understood the problem. "Ron, you have the biggest family, I have ever seen. You'll be just fine."

"Yeah, I have, but I didn't raise any of them, did I?" Ron groaned, sipping his whisky to calm his edgy hand. "Only Ginny is younger than me, and I was horrible with her. I always took her toys, charmed her dolls headless. I once put a gnome in her bed, Harry. A _living_ gnome."

Harry sniggered. "Okay, you were a bad brother. But you'll be a great father."

"You think so?" He asked weakly.

"Of course! And besides, I bet Hermione will be a walking lexicon."

Finally, a small smile touched Ron's face. "She already bought books."

"I bet she did. This news must have been one hell of a birthday gift, though" Harry grinned. Ron's birthday was a bit more than a week ago, but they only had time now to sit down and celebrate. School had kept Harry busy, while it seemed Ron had other things on his mind.

"I was so happy when she told me," Ron grinned. "But since then all I can think about is how I'm going to muck this up, too."

"You won't. And if it's any reassurance, the Dursleys were horrible, but I still turned out okay."

Ron laughed, blue eyes shining once again. "Even I won't ever be that bad."

"What did your Mom and Dad say?"

"Mom was beyond herself. She cried and everything. Dad was a bit more rational, asking about bigger house and moving and stuff. Mom hushed him though," Ron sniggered. "I'm meeting him tomorrow after work. We're going to have a bit of a…"

"Father Talk?" Harry helped him out feeling giddy.

Ron blushed, "Yeah. A father, can you imagine it, Harry? I mean, I always wanted family and we talked a lot about it with 'Mione, and we figured… with time… you know… engagement, marriage and then children. She's so focused on her work and all, I never thought… But now… it's all coming. She wants a small fall wedding, before the baby comes. She's already thinking about how she would manage work and the child at the same time. She's taking it so amazingly. So grown up… and I'm just sitting here drinking, feeling bat shit scared that I'm going to drop my new born."

Harry snorted the whisky up in his nose, then coughed.

"It's not funny, mate. I'm serious. I've never been so scared in my life."

"Sorry," Harry laughed. "Ron, you're going to be brilliant. I'm sure Molly would be eager to help, if anything comes up. Show you how to change crappy diapers, how to feed it… how not to drop it…"

Ron shot a nasty look at him, but then grinned. "Cheers," he said then, clinking his glass to Harry's. "Do you recon it'll be a girl? I hope it's a girl." He said then dropping the empty glass next to the others. As Harry finished his drink too, Ron turned around and motioned for Tom for two more. The bartender seemed definitely irritated now. "You'll be the godfather, right? Hermione says we should do stuff to wizarding traditions and all, so the baby will need to have a godfather at its naming. But, honestly, mate, I just want you there. Not for the baby, but for me. For us."

Warmness spread through Harry but it had nothing to do with the fiery, spicy whisky. "Sure, Ron. It would be an honour."

Ron nodded, then tapped Harry's arm that was resting on the table, obviously feeling awkward all of a sudden. Emotions had never been his forte. Harry cleared his throat and looked at his best friend reassuringly.

"So, how's Hogwarts?" Ron coughed slightly too, then pulled himself together. "Kids treating you good? Any more letters from Ettore?"

"I'm not even going to ask how you know about that, but tell Hermione that the next time, I won't be there to keep Ettore off her." Harry huffed jovially.

"She's immune to him," Ron said proudly.

"He irritates her. And I imagine we don't want an irritated _and_ pregnant Hermione around."

"Oh. No, I imagine we would like to avoid that," Ron paled again. "So, you're going to meet him again?"

"Yeah, I guess I have to go. I mean, it's a charity thing… The Aunt expects us. You can come, too, if you want."

"Us being? Did I miss something? And no, thanks. Unless Hermione insists, I'd rather skip this one. Old people and good looking Italians aren't for me."

"Snape, and no, you didn't. Nothing important," Harry sighed, then waved with a hand. "Fancy food is your thing though, and there will be plenty of that."

Tom chose that moment the drop a full bottle of whisky on their table. "I'll add it to your account," he grunted, then skidded off.

"I finally paged through the calendar," Ron looked up, pouring three fingers of firewhisky in both glasses. "Flitwick looks mental. Snape looks… well… not like Snape."

Bitter sensation filled Harry's chest as he searched the inside pocket of his coat. He pulled out the previously mentioned photo, wondering why he carried it around with himself. As his eyes drifted over the picture he had known inch by inch now, the cold seemed to have evaporated from his body completely. He dropped his scarf too and placed the photo on the table.

"Say it," he nodded towards the card. "He looks good."

Ron nodded. "Not my type. But there's definitely something there."

Harry leaned back, hand on the glass. "_Severus_…" he said suddenly, keeping his gaze strictly on the amber whisky. "That's the name of his clothes. You know what that means?"

Ron's eyes widened slightly, but he shook his head. "You don't know that. He could have…"

"What? Ettore names his designs after his _lovers_. Not just any people he happens to fancy. That's why there isn't a _Harry_ yet."

Harry didn't dare look up for a few moments, knowing that the blue eyes would be on him.

"Harry…" Ron said then quietly. He took the picture and watched it almost mesmerized for a moment. "Which one of them are you actually jealous of? I heard you babbling about Ettore ever since New Year. Clearly you fancy him. Do you not want him?"

"It's not really a matter of wanting him or not." Harry answered to his glass. "I mean, yes, he's handsome and all, but if he walked up to me now and asked me if I wanted to sleep with him, I would say no. But the more I'm around him, the more I want to say yes. Does that make sense?"

"Not in the least," Ron nodded supportively. "And what about Snape?"

"Snape's... different?" Harry offered, taking a sip. Now that he didn't have anything else to watch, he finally looked at his best friend. "I hate him right now, but I hate myself even more for ever getting involved. I let him too close. I played a game and lost. I should have known better; he's a Slytherin. I hate him for giving in to Ettore. I hate that they met because of me. I hate this fucking calendar," he heaved a sigh, then added in a low voice, "Then again, I jerked out to that picture three times just this week. And not because of all the hatred."

"Fuck Harry! Too much bloody information!" Ron grunted throwing the picture on the table. "But that does answer the question."

"What question?" Harry frowned.

"Which you like better. Isn't that what we're talking about?" Ron frowned too, using one of the empty glasses to push the picture further away from himself.

"No, I was just complaining, actually. But that is true. And impossible. I can't just hook up with _Snape_."

"Impossible is every day business for you, Harry," Ron pointed out. "And besides, if you won't, someone will. I mean that picture screams dark fantasies. And I mean sex-like, not Death Eater-like."

"Yes, thanks, Ron, that's very helpful." Harry huffed. "Why don't we just talk about you and your upcoming fatherhood? Scary was it, you said? No doubt, couldn't be easy taking care of a tiny human. So fragile, so many things could go wrong…"

Ron held up both his hand, surrendering, but was laughing as he said, "Okay, okay, I get it, no talk about someone else fancying your man. But remind me, why exactly can't you just hook up with Snape? I mean, if he wants to hook up with you, that is."

"That is a big if," snorted Harry. "He's my boss, for one. And we have a history. A big and long and ugly history. And then there's the curse. What if hooking up with him, is the very thing that will make me unable to return to the DADA post? If we keep it a secret and someone finds out, they can fire us both. Snape belongs to Hogwarts and I like this job and I don't want to risk it. Not that it matters… would you want to hook up with anyone after you had Ettore Serafini?"

"One man would be one more than I could ever want around my arse, thank you. It's not me, we're talking about. Even if Snape hooked up with him, he didn't stay, did he? And Ettore invited you to his Aunt's library, didn't he? Not Snape, or that ferret, _you_. That tells me Snape didn't want to stay with him. He doesn't strike me as a one night stand man. I doubt there was even anything between them, actually."

"I've seen them, Ron," said Harry quietly.

"What?"

"Snape and Ettore. Behind the Great Hall. Ettore was on his knees."

Ron seemed sorry. "He couldn't be tying Snape's shoelaces or something, could he?"

Harry shook his head, and emptied his glass. "Not unless Snape is using shoelaces to tie his pants instead of a zipper."

"Merlin, Harry… That must have been hard to see." Ron reacted quietly.

Harry just nodded. It was. It was fucking hard. It still hurt. "I hate him," he muttered.

"He's a bloody idiot, if he passed you on for that Italian. Ettore is a fun guy, but he's nothing like you, Harry. His loss, mate. You know what, take him with you on that dinner, and then flirt your way through every bloke. Make him see what he lost."

Slowly, a smile grew on Harry's lips. "That would be bad. And very low."

"Just the thing, he deserves," Ron grinned.

***.***

April arrived carrying wind and rain with it. Just when the students and the staff of Hogwarts got used to the gloomy, dark and soggy sight outside the castle, they were gifted with a day of sunshine, just so they would remember there was something else other than dampness. Then, the weather would go back to cloudy once again, and the students pulled their cloaks more firmly around themselves as they marched on the grounds between the greenhouses and the castle.

Severus did not care all that much about the sunshine, or the weather at all. In his mind and heart there was a storm, cruel, cold, and never ending. It only got worse every time he saw Potter. Lightning struck in the middle of his chest when he accidentally looked into those emerald eyes during breakfast, or on the corridor but saw only contempt and disappointment in there. He reached a point sometimes around St. Patrick's Day, when he wished the curse would just strike again, and Potter left the school. But he was not in luck, because the curse did not show its powers yet and Potter was always there, turning up in those moments when Severus least expected him.

He knew he had hurt Potter and for what? His absurd, desperate plan went wrong the moment Ettore had seen into his heart. Now, Potter distanced himself from Severus – understandably – while Ettore could solely focus all his charm, avid attention and soul-crushingly blue eyes on Potter. Severus did not have a chance now. Not against Serafini, a man so perfect for Potter. Not just beautiful and intelligent, but someone who would not be bothered by Potter's fame and yet see the young man for who he really was.

What could he offer? A bitter, old man, frowned upon by half of the community, stained for a lifetime and bound to Hogwarts. This was not a life for Potter. He did not fail to notice that Potter's enthusiasm for teaching, which was evident at the beginning was wearing off now. The Defence against the Dark Arts had always been a demanding position and it was now draining the last of Potter's interest. Would he even want stay for next year, Severus wondered sometimes. Hogwarts needed him and as a headmaster so did Severus. But as a man, constantly seeing someone he wished to hold in his arms, but was not allowed to, was a new level of pain, something not even Severus was used to. Physical and mental anguish, losing his friends, being frowned upon and hated was nothing new, not even from Potter. Merlin forbid, Potter had hated him for many years, there had even been a time when he was used to the angry, burning gaze. But things had changed since that damn war. Potter was not the brash boy anymore, not his father's son, not just a puppet, a curious imbecile, or someone he needed to protect. Potter became his own person, someone fundamentally interesting, loyal to the core, kind, and forgiving and maybe sometimes naïve, but just and trustworthy.

Someone Severus was in love with.

Someone who hated Severus at the moment.

That was his luck, just as always. First Lily, now her son. He managed to push away both of them, chase them into the arms of someone kinder, more handsome, more famous and more… everything. Lily was slightly bit easier to accept, though it hurt to see his friend turn away from him and all but run to James Potter.

But his love for Potter was different. It was not just the innocent friendship, the strong connection he had felt for the kind, flaming haired girl. These feelings were many and different in intensity but added together they created this burning, fiery sensation in the pit of his stomach. Wild desire, a strong urge to please, to earn respect, need of companionship, understanding, a sense of belonging. Some of these emotions were only a nagging, they were the quiet wind in his mind. However the others, so fierce, those made the thunder and lightning, the heavy rain of the storm in his heart.

What was he supposed to do now? Watch as Potter got further away from him? Fight for him? Show Potter that, just as Ettore, he, too could bring him pleasure?

As if Hogwarts wanted to help him make a decision, roaming the corridors he came upon a door, which generally was not there. It was past midnight, no child would wish for a door that could be seen by a teacher, and not many professors had known about this one particular secret of the castle. He lay his hand on the knob and after a moment of considering the situation he turned the handle of the door of the Room of Requirement.

He pushed the door open and found himself on the same balcony he and Potter had stood once. It had happened only some two months ago, yet it seemed eons now, as he watched the silent, dark figure, who leant against the iron railing. The moon this time was covered again by heavy black clouds, and no matter how hard the wind worked, it could not carry them away on its back. Night remained dark without the moonlight, but seeing Potter seemed to have lighted up Severus' heart.

Severus leaned back against the wall and let his eyes just rest and take in the young man.

Potter did not notice him, or if he did, he did not show it. He was motionless and deeply in his thoughts. The playful April wind tore at his cloak wildly. The black material lapped around the lithe body, twisting around long legs. The wind however managed to regulate the unruly hair at least. Even if for only short moments, but it straightened it as it skated through the black mane. It was cold, yet Potter's sleeves were tucked up. His skin was covered with goose bumps.

Severus longed to pull him close and warm him up, but he did not move, afraid that he would startle the young man like a wild creature and he would leave.

"You can come closer, you know," said Potter, the wind carrying away his voice.

Severus did move, feeling slightly caught. For how long did Potter know he was there? From the start? And just how long did Severus stare at Potter? Was it only a moment or long minutes?

He rested his elbows on the iron as well, while he watched the dark ground beneath them. He would not look at Potter.

"I always come here when I want to think…" remarked his Defence professor and some time ago, Severus would have reacted to that with a playful comment about Potter and thinking. But now, he just kept silent.

"It's calm up here."

Severus was still not sure what to say to that, but he nodded, not feeling in the least calm. But Potter must not know that.

Potter sighed deeply and Severus could see as he shook his head in resignation, before he turned around.

"What brought you here now?" He asked quickly, not willing to let this moment go yet. It had been more than a month since he had talked to Potter and it pained him to admit, but he missed the young man.

Potter watched him for a second but Severus did not look back at him; he kept his gaze on the darkness around them, seeing nothing.

"I am to be a godfather. Hermione is pregnant."

Severus could not help the smile that twisted his lips. Weasley must be freaking out – to be a father at his age and state of mind, he was barely a man himself. Granger had surely gone through half the Ministry's library on wizarding pregnancies by now. Or all of it, knowing the girl.

"I know it's not a big thing."

"It is," Severus answered surprised. He finally looked at Potter to see if he was serious. "To be a godfather…" Through his shirt he touched the silver necklace on his chest. "It is a great responsibility if one takes the duty seriously. You will be the child's guardian."

"I have no idea how to do that," Potter laughed frustrated. "I can hardly take care of myself. As you know."

Severus let out a huff as a sign of his agreement. "You will grow up to the task as so many have before you."

They were quiet for a few moments and Severus started to believe this was it, their conversation was finished, and his time with Potter had ended.

But then, "You and Draco… How was that?"

"Hard," Severus said earnestly. "He grew up under his father's influence. He always got what he wanted, and he was used to it. Then, when he turned eleven, you taught him, the world was not there to serve him. Whatever you were, the greatest weapon of the light, or the next dark lord, we did not know it then, you turned his friendship down and you became everything he was supposed to be, according to his expectations. Famous, loved, adored. He became hard to handle after that. I could relate to his feelings, yet I could not help him without revealing too much. I failed him as his mentor, as a friend and as his godfather as well."

"You didn't," Potter said kindly. His hand moved and Severus' heart leaped but it was only the railing Potter grasped in the end. "I know about the Unbreakable Vow. And it was you who asked for his punishment to be in Hogwarts, under your watch, instead of Azkaban."

The words warmed Severus' heart and calmed the storm slightly. "Maybe you are correct."

Potter grinned, "I'm always correct."

Severus reached under his shirt and pulled out the necklace. He dragged it over his head and handed it to Potter. He made sure not to pay attention to their fingers touching as the silver exchanged hands, but Potter's hand was cold and he could not help but let his fingertips brush the smooth palm softly.

"What's this?" Potter asked, his thumb running over the silver circle of the medal.

"It has been a tradition in the Malfoy family to give a token to the godfather or the godmother on the naming day. It is to remind them of the responsibility they take upon when they swear to take care of a Malfoy. If anything happens to the parents, it is the godparent who is to raise the child, not a blood relative. If anything happened to Lucius and Narcissa, it was I, a half-blood, who would have raised Draco. To say the least, I was very honoured when they had asked me."

"Wait is this…is this a snake?" Potter asked thoughtful, drawing the medal closer to his eyes to see it more clearly in the dark.

"That is an Ouroboros. A snake eating its own tail. It is an ancient symbol of the circle of life." Severus answered.

"And what does that mean?"

Green eyes connected with his and Severus was hit by its force. It had been so long since those eyes were free of hatred when looking at him. He bathed in the curious gaze as he explained.

"Life is not a line; it is a circle and as such, it has no beginning, or end. You are born, you live, you die, but as you do so, you influence others and others influence you. Lucius gave me this, so that I would remember, that though my life has its own circle, there is a greater ring. Draco's and mine got joined when I promised to take care of him. My life influenced Draco's greatly, but later on, his choices set my destiny as well."

Potter scanned Severus with an intense glare, his thumb still stroking the snake.

Slowly, his lips turned up into a smile. "In other words, raise the kid well, because his stupidity later on can bite you in the ass."

Severus laughed and Potter's eyes seemed to have shined even brighter. "Quiet right, Mr Potter."

With a crooked grin on his face, Potter held out the silver medal on the middle of his palm for Severus to take it back. Severus, however, shook his head and took the hand in his, before he closed Potter's fingers around the snake with a gentle touch. "You need it more than I do," he held on to the hand between his for only a moment longer. Potter's gaze seemed to have darted panicking between obsidian eyes and their joined hands then settled in the middle, on Severus' lips.

Not daring to read more into it, Severus let go immediately and stepped away. He felt weirdly naked without the necklace he used to wear for twenty-five years. "It is getting late," he said quickly, then turned to leave.

"Snape, wait…" came the hesitant call.

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he turned halfway back. "Yes?"

"We are invited to another fundraiser. A silent auction at Coco Baron's on St George's Day. Will you come?"

"Coco Baron?"

"Ettore's aunt. He invited us. Draco as well. Hermione's coming too. And Ron, maybe," Potter said all too quickly. "You should come as well. There will be a silent auction and Mrs Baron will give away most of the raised gold, like last time. Hogwarts is on her list again."

"I am not-" Severus started to refuse the offer but Potter cut in.

"Ettore won't be there probably, and Hermione will be… well… pregnant and busy with all the paying people. Ron doesn't really want to come. I promised to go, but I don't want to go alone. Please come… with me. I'll die there alone."

Severus let out a resigned sigh. "We will see, Mr Potter."

"Snape!"

He was already at the door when the second cry forced his legs to halt again. "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"Thanks," came the quiet answer.

He left, smiling. The storm had finally pacified.

***.***

"I really like what you have done with the place!" Hermione shouted from his bedroom.

Harry had seen six versions of the Defence Professor's office during his time as a student, yet never realized there was a door leading to the private chamber. Or maybe it was just charmed to stay hidden from students…

His office did not look anything special, but it did resemble Remus'. As he worked with many creatures and the creatures needed to be kept somewhere, they were usually in his office. He took some trinkets with him as well, when he moved in, things that stuck on him after he broke the curse on them. They were mostly useless, but somehow he had grown to like them. His personal chamber were devoid of magical creatures, but was filled with books on the Dark Arts he had collected during his travels and from Grimmauld Place. Which explained why Hermione liked the place. Other than that, it was almost bare. No personal items showed who lived here and the furniture was regular; the same at every professor's. Even his bedroom was bare, except some of the novels he sometimes read before going to bed and his clothes that generally lie scattered around.

He watched the door, waiting for his best friend to finally come out. Hermione had been in there for about an hour, getting ready for the party. Harry had invited her to his rooms at Hogwarts so that they could go together from here. They chatted and shared a bottle of wine, as she picked out Harry's outfit for the night, before she would chose her own. They kept on talking as Harry dressed and they didn't stop even when Hermione took the bedroom to change. Chatting with the girl brought back fond memories and helped Harry greatly in alleviating his anxiousness. He still didn't have any news on whether Snape was coming along or not.

"Thanks," He shouted back from his favourite chair, twirling a glass of chardonnay between his fingers. "If you see something familiar, it might be yours. I keep forgetting giving you back yo-" He quieted suddenly as he heard a weird noise from the bedroom. He stood quickly and skidded closer. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

The weird sound repeated itself, and Harry was now certain that it was a sob, though the young witch wanted to repress it.

He opened the door slowly. "Hermione, I'm coming in. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

She was standing in front of the mirror, dressed up, looking perfect. One of her hands rested on her belly that had already started to swell slightly. The change was almost unperceivable when she was wearing robes and her usual clothes under, but this dress seem to highlight it.

Her make-up, which she had worked on the last half an hour, was a mess as her tears streamed down on her face. She smiled weakly. "I'm so sorry…"

"Hey, are you okay?" Harry asked gently, going closer, standing behind her, looking at her through the mirror.

She sobbed again, but nodded. Harry tenderly embraced her from behind. "What happened? Are you feeling sick? Madam Pomfrey could help, I'm sure."

Weakly, she only said, "I'm pregnant."

Harry laughed. "You and Ron both have a habit of realising things at the weirdest moments. You've been pregnant for more than two months now, 'Mione."

"There's _someone_ in here." She caressed her belly, which wasn't flat anymore. He slowly placed his hand on hers. "Yes, there is. And you both look radiant, Hermione. Absolutely beautiful."

"Liar," she laughed faintly, then turned around in his arms and buried her head in the crook of Harry's neck. "I can't do this, Harry!" She cried now in earnest. "I can't be… a mother… not yet… I can't… I wanted… oh Harry…"

Harry stirred her to the bed and softly made Hermione sit. Holding her hands, he kneeled between her legs. "What do you mean? You don't want to keep it?" He asked, feeling horrified inside.

"Of course I want it," she sniffed. "It's just… oh Harry… I'm so selfish but… but I had plans. And so did Ron, and I'm trying so hard to make everything good, but I can't… I can't… I'll have to quit work, and raise a child and no matter how many books I read, they don't tell me how to do both, and how to be a good mother." Her voice trailed off but she added faintly, "I'm so scared…"

"Have you talked to Ron about this?"

Her cries turned even more desperate. "I can't! He would hate me… He would think I'm horrible for wanting to work… His mom… Molly… I can't stay home the rest of my life, like she did. I'm so horrible. I don't even have the baby yet, but I'm already a terrible mother…"

"Merlin, Hermione, you're not terrible!" Harry stated, hugging her swiftly. "Ron would understand. But you need to talk to him about this."

"No, he wouldn't… He wants so many children, and he really loves being an Auror and… and… I'm so sorry."

"Hermione," Harry said strictly and waited until the brown, tear-filled eyes turned on him. "You are not a bad person, Hermione, and definitely not a bad mother just because you are ambitious and want to work after the baby is born." When she looked down again, he gripped her hand more tightly. "Listen to me, Hermione. You are not Molly Weasley, no one expects you to be, not even Ron. And by the way, he's freaking out about this as much as you. This isn't fair on him, you know. You have to be honest with him, tell him how you feel and what you want. He will understand and if he doesn't, just send him to me. Or to Molly."

Hermione laughed feebly. "He's scared, too?"

"You didn't notice?"

"He seemed so happy, so confident…"

"He _is_ happy. Everyone is happy, but that doesn't mean, we aren't worried. Even I am about being godfather and all I have to do is buy the kid cool gifts and be the awesome Uncle Harry he needs when you two are too strict. It's a little human, Hermione, you ought to be a bit scared. But you're not alone in this. If you want to go back to work, Ron can take care of the baby, or I'm sure Molly would be happy to help, or your folks, maybe. I'd be happy to take care of it-"

"Her," Hermione breathed softly. "The Healer told me yesterday. I read they can tell earlier than with Muggle pregnancies and asked the Healer and she said… she said… it's a girl."

Harry smiled brightly. "You're having a daughter, Hermione." He poked Hermione' belly kindly, grinning. "You got a little girl in there."

"I'll have a daughter," Hermione repeated, staring at her own belly mesmerized. Tears streamed from her eyes again, but the shadows of sadness seemed to have disappeared.

"Ron wanted a daughter; he told me when he said you're expecting."

"He did?" She looked up, her hand caressing her stomach.

"Yes. But even if it were a boy, he would love it as much as one possibly can. Hermione, he's been madly in love with you since probably the first moment he had seen you on the Hogwarts Express. Talk to him. You know he's an idiot but he would listen to you and the two of you will work this out, I'm certain."

Hermione nodded then swiped off his tears with the back of his hand.

Harry stood up and rested a hand on her shoulder. "How about you lay back now and rest a bit. I'll fire call Ron. You stay here and let Madam Pomfrey check you out. The elves will take care of you, bring you food and drink. And you and Ron will talk this over, either now, or in the morning. But _you_ will stay here and rest, okay?"

She sniffed, then smiled timidly. Harry conjured a handkerchief for her. She blew her nose then nodded and lay back on her back.

Harry nodded too. "I'll go get Ron and Madam Pomfrey."

Ron came through the fireplace the moment Harry uttered the words _Hermione_ and _anxious_. The redhead all but pushed through Harry and was almost immediately by Hermione's side. Harry meanwhile called the matron. She came through as well, shaking her head and mumbling something about stress and pregnancy.

Harry watched from the door as she examined the young mother, while Ron sat next to her. After some poking and casting diagnostic spells, she conjured some potions and thrust them into Hermione's still slightly trembling hands. A cheerful looking little elf appeared and brought some food and pumpkin juice for Hermione and when she drunk everything, Ron finally let go of her and went out to Harry.

"Madam Pomfrey says, she's okay, just a bit low on some vitamins. The baby's okay too." He grinned shyly then as he added in a slightly croaked, but proud voice. "My _daughter_ is okay."

Harry patted him on the back. "There's plenty you two need to talk about, but perhaps it would be best leaving it to the morning. I'm sure Perky there," Harry pointed at the small elf who was still idling around, humming quietly which seemed to have calmed Hermione even more, "would be more than happy to change the sheets and get you towels and whatnots."

"We don't want to-"

Harry made Ron shut up with a look he had learned from Hermione. "You know you are welcomed here. Always." He stated.

"Where will you stay?"

"I'll come up with something," answered Harry reassuringly.

"Harry!" They heard Hermione's cry from the room. Harry leaned against the doorframe, while Ron went to sit next to her again. "You're still going, right?" Not waiting for the answer, she went on. "You need to. Someone has to represent Hogwarts if Snape's not going, and you have to tell Mrs Baron why I'm not there. Tell her I'm terribly sorry. I was looking forward to this event actually."

Harry smiled, "I'll take care of everything, don't worry. I'll charm their last Knut off them." He winked, then grabbed his suit jacket. He had one more trip to make, before he could Apparate to Mrs Baron's.

He draped the jacket across his arm as he walked on the corridors. "Dumbledore," he said to the old stone gargoyle which had opened to the same word in the last seven years.

"Looking fancy," the Gargoyle remarked as it moved away.

Unsure of what to say, Harry simply thanked it and then swiftly moved up the twisting stairs, taking two at a time. He knocked rapidly on the heavy door.

He still didn't know what to expect when it came to Snape. If he did sleep with Ettore and he wanted more, he should be eager to come along. If he didn't then this party would give plenty of reason and occasions to do it now. Yet Snape seemed reluctant when he had asked. Just what did happen between Snape and Ettore? Could he misinterpret the scene he had witnessed? No way, Ettore was sucking on Snape's cock. He did see it; fuck, just thinking about it made his heart twist in pain and his cock fill up with blood. He hated that a part of his mind thought Snape and Ettore were hot. He absolutely hated it. But they were. Snape in _Severus_, muscles tensing, Ettore on his knees… _Fuck_.

He was hard. And the real Snape stood in the door in casual elegance. Shiny shoes, black suit, tailored robes, intense expression. Shirt unbuttoned, tie undone. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Harry knew exactly what was under that white shirt. He was painfully aware of it. And he also knew just how unavailable that was to him. Every inch of naked skin. Not his. Ettore's. More likely. _Fuck_.

"So… you're coming?"

"I thought you already left," Snape admitted, buttoning his shirt up.

When he corrected his tie, Harry almost undid it, tore it off even. His heart ached for this man, but that wasn't the only part. Given the chance… he would do anything Snape asked him. To hell with words like loyalty. What he wanted was to take Snape's hard cock in his mouth and suck it. Drive it deeper in, then lick the whole shaft. Taste his come, hold his balls. Let Snape fuck his mouth. What he wanted was to ride the man; watch his face as Harry sunk down on his cock, drawing it deeper inside his tight arse. Watch him come. Watch him in ecstasy. See him uncontrolled. Loyalty was nice, but all this… all this seemed even nicer.

He cleared his throat, in a useless attempt to pull himself together. "Hermione decided to skip the dinner. She feels a bit off. I was with here, but Ron's here now. She needs a bit of rest so I told them they can stay in my room." Snape looked taken aback for a moment after that sentence so Harry added, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," the man reacted right away. "The child?"

"She's okay."

Snape moved inside his office, leaving the door open. Unsure, Harry followed. It had been more than two months, since he had last been here. In fact, it was the day he introduced Snape and Ettore. Oh great, more nice memories, just what he needed.

A half empty bottle of scotch was on the table, next to it a tumbler, almost empty. Crumbles of the red wax of the seal dotted the table next to the crystal glass. Did Snape just drink half a bottle of scotch? And just why would he do that right before they were to go to a fancy dinner party? Was it because he thought Harry had already left? Without him? Ridiculous.

Snape pulled off a big blue box from one of the shelves, then froze mid-motion. "She?"

Harry looked up confused for a moment then understanding dawned on him and he smiled brightly. "Yeah. It's a she."

"Congratulations," Snape said softly, and Harry could swear there was even a tiny little smile on his lips as well, before he turned back to the blue box and opened it. He pulled out a pink vial. "Did you leave an elf with them?"

"Perky," answered Harry and the next moment the giddily smiling elf appeared in the office accompanied with a loud bang.

"Professor Harry Potter, Headmaster Severus Snape, did you call for Perky?" She asked in a bright melodic tone.

"Take this to Miss Granger. Tell her to drink half of it now and the second half tomorrow. It should help with the morning sickness for at least a week. I will make another batch later. Make sure she rests plenty after digesting it."

The little elf took the glass vial and was gone the next moment. Harry watched Snape intently. "Why do you keep potions here for morning sickness?"

Snape arched an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes. "I am not pregnant, if that is what you are thinking."

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "I knew that. So why?"

"One of my best Defence teachers was with child. I tried to make her pregnancy as smooth as possible while she was with us. And before you ask, the potion was sealed and preserved; it was as fresh as on the day I brewed it."

"No doubt," Harry breathed feeling incredibly grateful. "Thanks," he said, knowing perfectly that that single one word wouldn't convey just how much he appreciated that Snape took care of his best friend.

"Do not mention it," Snape answered nonchalantly, waving his wand and making the scotch and the glass vanish. "Shall we?" he asked then.

Harry opened the door. "Let's get some more gold for Hogwarts."

***.***

The beauty of the estate still surprised Harry. It was brightly lit, even the front yard, so that people would not have any troubles finding their way inside. Not that it would be hard, given the entrance was a two-winged door, right on top of huge marble stairs. House elves, wearing crispy, baby blue pillow cases with an emblem of intricate '_CB_' initials over their heart, welcomed the guests. Harry was slightly surprised to see so many familiar faces. Kingsley, the Minister for Magic was present, his booming voice was the first thing Harry had noticed upon stepping through the threshold with Snape right after him. Many older faces he had recognized from the Wizengamot; their presence seemed to have made Snape slightly anxious, however after a while, he mingled with them rather easily. There was however someone, who did not show up. Ettore was kept in Italy, it seemed.

The last time Harry had been here, he didn't have an occasion to talk to Coco Baron, as their host had been rather busy enjoying the charity auction in the backrooms. Now, however the lady wanted to compensate him for their time lost and had spent almost all evening dallying around Harry as if he would be the most amusing sight in her home.

Mrs Baron, who insisted on being called Coco regardless her age, or rather _especially _for that reason, must have been not a day older than seventy, or so she claimed. Some of her friends kept reminding her and everyone who listened to her, that she kept saying that in the last decade or so.

Harry had found Coco rather charming, all in all. She was a bright character, chatty, the soul of the party. Once, she must have been a beauty, however not much remained of her former glory, only perhaps her eyes, that were, just like Ettore's, blue as the ocean on a sunny day. She was chubby, her cheeks pink, and her hair pure white, long and curly. This evening, she was wearing blue roses in it, which matched her light blue robes. Snape wondered half aloud, so that only Harry could hear him, whether she dressed for the elves or the elves were dressed to match her style.

She had been a widower for five years, when her husband had died in an Apparating accident. He was a man, who liked two things in life: betting and drinking. One could say, and Coco certainly did, that Mr Baron died, doing what he liked. One evening, during a party, similar to the one Harry was visiting, Mr Baron was drunk and made a bet that he could, indeed, apparate outside the country. He managed, winning the bet, and with it a glorious renaissance painting from Johannes Van Hoytl The Younger*. Unfortunately, he somehow miscalculated his destination and appeared somewhere in the North Sea. Boy with Apple*, the previously mentioned painting, had been handed to Coco, who had cherished it ever since, and made it the centre piece of the main dining room.

Coco entertained Harry with stories of her niece during dinner. As it turned out, Ettore's mother had died when he was only two and his father had been a successful entrepreneur, both in the muggle and the wizarding world. Ettore therefore was mostly left here, with Coco, who had raised him into the fine man he was now. Coco took great pleasure in Ettore and his vivid imagination when it came to fashion. She was proud to say, she was the only one who could inspire the Italian without bedding him. Almost every year, he came out with a set, he created for ladies like Coco.

"He was a shy child, would you believe?" Coco said as they sat in the dining room, the table crumbling under the weight of all the food. She had none of Ettore's accent, however she lived most of her life in England, while Ettore had moved back to Italy when he became seventeen. "Quiet and distant."

"Impossible," Harry laughed. He couldn't imagine Ettore as anything even remotely shy.

"Oh indeed," Coco nodded seriously, grasping a goblet and washing down the juicy beef with a gulp of red wine. "Up until his father had passed away at least. He had been fourteen, and became fierce after the dreadful event. He had a small affair with a married man and then the wife. Quiet the scandal. Luckily, they were at least Muggles."

"Now, _that_ Ettore I do know," Harry giggled.

"After he went back to Italy, only seventeen, my dear boy, and all alone, I have heard almost as much about his success in fashion as I did on his success with men and women. He's only ever becomes serious when he's married, otherwise, he's as fierce as twenty years ago."

"And just why on earth would I change, _Zia_ Coco?" Said a voice at the door Harry immediately recognized. "You love me the way I am, do you not?"

"Ettore, my dearest!" Coco cried, standing up. The huge, long table quieted, all fifty guests watched the handsome man who stepped in the room to welcome his Aunt.

Ettore hurried to the old lady and hugged her happily, smiling as he buried his head in her white hair. "Your beauty has not faded since the day I have last seen you, my dear Aunt. In fact you become more gorgeous by every day." Ettore nodded towards Harry and Severus before he went on with a teasing smile. "If I am not careful enough you charm away my friends, _Zia _Coco!"

Ettore went around the table and greeted all the guests by name, apologising for being late. Soon the chatter around the dining room resumed, and the Italian finally reached Coco's end, where Severus and Harry sat as well.

First he said hello to Snape, laying a hand on his back, inquiring about the matters of school. Harry's fingers involuntarily tightened around the cutlery, but no one seemed to have noticed. Then he arrived to Harry.

"Nothing can make me happier than seeing you in my childhood home, Harry," he smiled, placing both his hands on Harry's shoulders. He leaned closer before he whispered, "Well, there is of course seeing you in the library, but we shall get back to that later on."

Harry smiled, timidly, and turned towards where the arousing accent was coming from. "I'm glad you could make it, Ettore." He pointed at the food as he said with a grin, "Sit and eat. I want to hear more about shy and quiet Ettore."

Serafini laughed, throatily, his head falling back. "I can be quiet and shy, if that is what you want, _mio amore_."

Coco shifted at the head of the table and, summoning a chair, gave place for Ettore. "Sit now, my child. I must hear about your new show. It is in May, right? Eat, darling, you must be famished."

Blue eyes turned to Harry as Ettore took his place next to his Aunt. "Oh, _Zia_ Coco, I am hungry for one thing only but, I am afraid that is not up to you to serve me."

* * *

><p><strong>*<em>Boy with Apple from Johannes Van Hoytl The Younger<em> is another one of Wes Anderson's creation from Grand Budapest Hotel. The actual painting which is featured in the movie was created by artist Michael Taylor.**


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